When Plans Don't Go To Plan
by avrovulcan
Summary: Illya's carefully made plans don't quite go right! (Thanks to my Beta for helping me with this story. It has been updated and mistakes corrected.)
1. Chapter 1

This was my first ever story, I'd never written one before and it was all new to me. Since the first posting of this tale, I now have a beta who has gone through it all with a fine tooth comb and gently kicked me into shape (Thanks for all your hard work.). I hope you will now enjoy this reposting. As ever, any comments would be welcome.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin, along with April Dancer and Mark Slate and some other characters that appear all belong to The Man From Uncle, I have just brought them into my world to play for a bit!

**When Plans Don't Go To Plan**

Chapter 1: Room for Two More?

The two agents left Mr Waverly's office as they had just been dismissed after being debriefed following their latest successful mission. They were walking down the grey walled corridors and looking forward to a hot shower as well as a change into something more comfortable before seeing their girlfriends.

Illya was inlove with Rebecca Andrews, another Section 2 agent who had been transferred to New York from London. Napoleon was dating Lizzie Johnson, one of the nurses from Medical, who just happened to help make his stays there a bit more tolerable.

They had returned with the usual cuts and bruises, though nothing that required a stay in Medical and a hot shower would help relieve their discomfort.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin had been partners and close friends for six years now, they could anticipate each other allowing them to work together as a single entity. Mr Waverly had every right to be proud of his top two agents. Illya's cool-headedness complemented Napoleons excitable character perfectly.

"So, got anything planned for our well-earned break?" asked Napoleon.

They both had been cleared for six days, well earned, R&R. He could see by the sudden glint in his Russian partners piercing blue eyes as well asthe slight smile that something was planned. Quickly the glint and smile weregone as Illya tried to make his face a blank mask, but it was too late, Napoleon had seen the tell-tale signs.

"Come on, what's with the silent treatment?"

Illya was considering whether or not to tell his friend what he planned to be doing. He didn't want things to be ruined, as it had taken some string pulling to get it all in place. He knew if he told Napoleon, it would be a mistake, but he couldn't keep his friend in the dark… he had to tell him.

"I am taking Rebecca to Bruges. It is our favourite place, and fairly safe. We do not seem to get much trouble there from THRUSH."

"Ahh, Bruges, it's a beautiful place. I know some lovely restaurants there."

Illya recognised that look on Napoleons face.

"Oh hell", he thought . "I knew it, I knew it would be a mistake."

Illya fixed his friend with his best icy stare, one that would have stopped anyone else in their tracks, but Napoleon was immune to it.

"Do not even think about it Napoleon," Illya growled. "I have planned this down to the last detail, and you do not feature in any of it."

Napoleon saw Illya's icy stare, but it didn't mean a thing to him.

"Aww, come on, Bruges is a big enough place for both of us, I won't cramp your style."

Now they were in the changing rooms and Illya started to get undressed, getting ready for his shower. As he took off his black turtleneck and slacks; Napoleon saw his newest set of bruises.

There was a rather large one that was even now changing to a nice shade of purple across his ribs on his left hand side. That was when Illya had an argument with a sizeable piece of concrete on their last mission. How it hadn't broken his ribs, he'd never know. Napoleon was grateful, as that particular piece of concrete had, at the time, been heading in the direction of his own head, but Illya managed to deflect it by putting himself in its path.

Napoleon knew that when Illya had become an UNCLE agent he had sworn to protect Napoleon with his own life, if need be. It was an 'official rumour' that when Mr Waverly retired, Napoleon was to be his replacement. He found out three years ago about this particular arrangement and it made him feel a bit uncomfortable knowing that Illya had been sworn to this. On several occasions, he had very nearly lost his life while saving Napoleons.

"So, when's your flight then?"

Illya sighed, knowing he had lost; he could see his plans were now going to be changed.

"I have not exactly booked a flight."

Napoleon looked at his partner with a puzzled expression.

"So how do you plan to get there?"

Illya resigned himself to the fact that Napoleon and probably Lizzie would end up coming with him and Rebecca.

"You know the new Learjet that UNCLE has just recently acquired?"

"The 25?"

"Yes, that one, I am going to take it out and put it through its paces. I arranged it with Mr Waverly and suggested that my planned trip would be perfect – he agreed. It should be ready by tonight, once the techs have finished fitting all the usual UNCLE 'extras'"

Napoleon was impressed; Illya certainly had pulled some strings. He knew his partner was an excellent pilot and would be more than capable of handling the new twin engine jet. Waverly was also impressed with Illya's piloting skills and would often use him to train new pilots when needed within UNCLE.

"If I'm right, it'll have room for two more passengers won't it?"

Napoleon looked at his friend with a glint in his eye, knowing perfectly well after seeing the specs for the new jet it would accommodate eight passengers in addition to the pilot and copilot. He wondered if Lizzie would be able to get some time off at incredibly short notice.

Illya inwardly groaned as he fished his towel out from his locker, wrapped it around his waist and walked over to the shower cubicle.

Just as they were both finishing getting dressed and putting their dirty clothes in plastic bags (that were always left in their lockers just for this purpose), Mark Slate walked in. He'd heard the two agents had returned and greeted them with a cheerfulness that made both Illya and Napoleon realise just how tired they were.

"Hey you two! Welcome back, good to see you've returned in one piece this time."

"Hey to you, too How's April?" asked Napoleon.

"A few bruises, but otherwise she's fine. We've got some time off now too, so she's going to spend some time with Paul, you know they've been together for six months now? That's a record for April"

The trio laughed; they were all friends together. When your life frequently depended others, friendship ran deep.

Mark had a girlfriend, Penny, who he had been seeing for the last few months and quite regularly the eight of them would meet up and spend time together. They were like one big family.

"Are you doing anything with Penny during your time off Mark?" asked Napoleon. He didn't fail to miss the glare from Illya, silently telling him to not say a word, or else he would certainly live to regret it.

"No, not really, It'll just be nice to have some time together, it doesn't happen very often."

Illya tried to make a hasty exit before Napoleon could spill the beans.

"Well, if you do not mind, we will catch up later, I am tired, achy and famished."

Napoleon smiled at his Russian friend, Illya was always hungry and he was always amazed how such a small person could pack away so much.

"You're always hungry, I'd be worried if you weren't!"

"Got any plans Illya, Napoleon?" Asked Slate.

Too late, Illya rolled his eyes while Napoleon told Mark about Illya's arrangement, and now his plan to go to Bruges with Rebecca and Lizzie in the new Learjet.

"How did you manage to get the Old Man to agree to that?" Mark asked Illya.

"Didn't you know that Illya's one of the best pilots we have?" asked Napoleon.

"I never learnt to fly planes, I've always been a chopper guy, though it's something I'd like to be able to do."

"Well, maybe you can get Mr Waverly to ask Illya to teach you sometime, you couldn't get a better instructor."

Illya glared at Napoleon with his 'wait till I get you alone' look and then smiled at Mark, saying he would be pleased to show him anytime.

The inevitable question Illya was dreading to hear finally came.

"Do you have room for two more, I'll just call Penny?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2: I'm a very good interrogator._

The two friends were walking to Napoleon's car, which he left in the safety of UNCLE's garage while on their assignment. Illya's plan for a nice getaway with his lady love had inexplicably mushroomed out of control and there was nothing he could do to contain it.

"That is the last time I tell you about any of my romantic plans." Illya said in a snit as he approached the car.

Looking at his partner across the roof, his icy glare returned.

"Anyone would think Becca and I need a chaperone or you and me really are joined at the waist."

Napoleon held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Now you know that you would miss me, I'm only doing you a favour." He answered before unlocking the door. "And it's hip, not waist."

Illya glared at him. "Whatever, I was in the right area and thank you for your concern about me missing you."

His glare turned into a sly grin as he sat in the passenger seat next to his friend. "But I was not planning on having any free time to think about it. Now my nice romantic trip for two has turned into an outing for six."

The Russian was beginning to wish the jet wasn't so big, if it had been smaller; he could have put the others off. There was one thing on the bright side, at least April didn't know about the trip...

Napoleon laughed and playfully slapped his partner on the back before starting the engine.

"Well let's get home and get ready for tomorrow before we're too tired to pack."

"Speak for yourself, I have had our case packed and ready for a while."

Napoleon didn't doubt it either, knowing how his blond haired partner liked to be prepared. Whereas he had no problems throwing things into a case at the last minute, sometimes even just before walking out the door of his apartment on short notice assignments.

They arranged to meet Mark and Penny at 6:30 at La Guardia airport, where UNCLE kept their aircraft, once Illya had checked the jet and had it cleared for flight.

Napoleon parked his black sports car near their apartment block. Together the pair entered the building and ran up the stairs.

Always competitive, Illya kept up a fast pace and tried to keep in front of his partner, Napoleon attempted to pull him back and gain an advantage. Both agents were laughing like school boys, each trying to get into the lead.

Illya regained his lead just as he reached his floor, where he stopped and grinned at his partner.  
"Dinner is on you... again."

Napoleon rolled his eyes. "That's the fourth time in a row you've won. With the way you eat, I'm going to be pennyless by the end of the month."

The Russian laughed; his blue eyes flashing. "You better use the last floor to your apartment as practice if you want a chance at beating me."

The comradery Illya felt with his partner after their little competitive run put him in a better mood making him suddenly feel more forgiving. He was looking forward to the trip and would have preferred it be alone with Rebecca, but spending time with his friends while not having to continually look over his shoulder was a pleasant thought.

It was very rare that the UNCLE agents could truly relax and behave like every other 'normal' citizen.

Illya smiled as he made his usual security checks, finding what he was looking for, a small signal from Rebecca letting him know the door had been opened by her and not an unwanted visitor.  
He unlocked the door and went in, impatient to see her.

He could hardly believe it had been eighteen months since he'd met her on assignment after Waverly requested her being brought in from London.

Usually relationships between agents were frowned upon, but Mr. Waverly seem to encourage the relationship between the two of them, simply put, he could see they were good for each other.  
The danger existed that THRUSH could use their relationship against them, but they were both capable of looking after themselves… very well.

Rebecca was also the only UNCLE trained female interrogator, within the whole organization, specialising in a new form of interrogation which was being trialled. Her success rate was such that the Section 1 Chiefs were considering the trial a triumph.

He quietly entered his comfortable apartment, with two bedrooms and adequate kitchen and living room space, he was happy. His sofa was large and inviting, though he preferred doing his reading from his lounge chair beside his book case.

Rebecca had bought a radio and placed it on one of the bookcase shelves, managing to make a space between his collection of books and science journals. He could hear it playing now as well as her singing along to it from the kitchen. The smells coming from the kitchen made him realize how hungry he was and he went to investigate.

Very quietly, trying not to make a sound; he sneaked up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. Usually he couldn't get nearer than five or six paces away before she let him know she knew he was there.

Rebecca smiled to herself, instantly knowing Illya was behind her, having sensed his presence as soon as he had stepped into the living room. He hadn't made a sound, though straining to hear; she knew he was home.

She carried on singing along to the radio, while stirring the sauce for the pasta and craftily waited until she judged that her blond haired lover was about 3 paces away from her before putting the wooden spoon down. Turning around; she let him sweep her up in a passionate embrace.

Reluctantly, she pulled away and turned back to the stove before the meal was ruined.

"About time you were back, and I see you've timed it perfectly, dinners ready."  
"Hello _vozlyublennyy_," he said with enthusiasm." Great, I am starving."  
Illya put his arms around her waist and gently nibbled her neck while she served the pasta onto their plates.

"Stop that and make yourself useful, get the garlic bread out the oven please?"

They sat close together eating their meal while catching up on what they had been doing during the last two weeks since they had seen each other. Spending time apart was always hard, but it was a life they were used to and it made them appreciate the time they were together all the more.

After they finished and cleared everything away, they snuggled up together. Illya reclined back on the sofa, Rebecca laying alongside him with her head resting on his chest. The Russian put his arm around her and gently played with her long brown hair making her sigh with contentment. She loved it when he did that, and Illya found it relaxing too.

"We have to be up at about 4:30 tomorrow morning," Illya murmured to her.

Rebecca shifted slightly and with disappointment in her voice as she spoke, "I thought we'd been given some time off? What's come up now, has another THRUSH been brought in for interrogation?"  
"No, nothing like that, we have got a flight to catch."

Rebecca saw Illya's lopsided smile out of the corner of her eye and knew he had something up his sleeve. She shifted a bit more so that she could gaze into his eyes and '_Oh what blue eyes they are_,' she thought to herself, as their color never ceased to amaze her.

"What have you got planned Kuryakin?" She asked in mock severity.

"We are going to take the new UNCLE jet for its test flight. The Old Man has cleared us to use it for our break."

Rebecca was delighted, since she loved flying and was thrilled as this was the latest in small private jets.

"That is the good news." Illya said. "The bad news is that it has not quite worked out as planned. It was to be just you and me, but Napoleon and Lizzie are joining us now."

"Oh, I don't mind, it'll still be nice. I like Lizzie." Rebecca smiled and kissed Illya. "And besides, it's the thought that counts."

"That is not all," the Russian growled. "Mark and Penny are coming too. Napoleon spilt the milk."

Rebecca laughed. "Stop growling Illya, and its 'spilt the beans'. I really don't mind, I'll still enjoy it. Anyway you haven't told me where we're going."

"At least **that**, I can keep a surprise."

"You're forgetting I'm a very good interrogator, I nearly always get the answers I want."

"Ahh, but I am conditioned against interrogation techniques, remember? You will not be able to break me."

"That's what you think _moya lyubov_, I've got a special interrogation technique, just for you and I know exactly where your weakness is."

Rebecca began to tickle Illya. Laughing, the two of them rolled off the sofa and fell onto the floor. Illya winced and drew a sharp breath as he landed on his left. Rebecca heard him and immediately lifted his top up to see the large bruise on his side.

"Nothing is broken and I have had far worse as you know."

To prove his point, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

for Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3: Is there a problem?_

4:30 came all too soon. Illya got up and padded to the kitchen, making them both some tea as it was too early to be fully awake, and carried them back to the bedroom. He stood there for a moment just watching the sleeping form in his bed.

Illya wondered how he had come to be so lucky to have her in his life. He always found emotions hard to deal with and never really knew how to act around women. He just didn't have his suave partner's way with them.

Yes, they chased him, but he would do everything in his power to put them off and get away, but with Rebecca it was different.

He had been in love once before, many years ago, but Rebecca was his true love, he was sure. He felt completely at ease with her, as if he had known her all his life. She knew and understood him as no one else did, except for Napoleon.

He was certain he would marry this beautiful woman some day, it felt right and wondered what Mr. Waverly would think of that, but somehow Illya had the feeling he would approve.

Rebecca slowly started to wake up and realised she was alone in the bed; she opened her eyes to see him standing in the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming tea and looking at her oddly. She could see he was thinking about something and seemed to suddenly snap out of his reverie and came over to her side of the bed to give her a morning kiss and the tea.

"Mmmm, just what I need." She said as she took the mug from him and took a sip. "What time is it?"

"Just gone 4:30, I am going to wash and shave." He said, finishing his drink and going to the bathroom.

Rebecca finished her tea and went to brush her teeth and bathe just as Illya was drying his face. He stopped to give her a kiss as he passed her on his way to the wardrobe.

"We need to be at the airport for 6:00, so Napoleon and Lizzie are picking us up at 5:30."

"Ok. I'm nearly ready anyway, so I'll fix us some breakfast."

"Great, I am starving, do you want me to do anything?"

"No, I know what your cooking skills are like and I don't want to spend our break in hospital with food poisoning." She laughed.

"I am not that bad, my toast is always perfect."

"That's because you learned to use a toaster."

Just before 5:30 Napoleon and Lizzie let themselves into the apartment.

"You two ready to go?" Napoleon called.

"Yup, I'm looking forward to seeing this new jet." Rebecca replied after giving her two friends a hug, "and to spending some time with you and my man."

Illya came from the bedroom carrying a small suitcase, stopping only to set the alarm and security measures. With the case in one hand and his other arm around Rebecca's waist they followed the others down to Solo's car.

Trying to get the suitcase in the car was another matter, the trunk was full with Napoleon and Lizzie's baggage and even though Illya and Rebecca's case wasn't that big, it wouldn't fit in.

"We are only going for 5 days, Napoleon, just what are you taking? Even though it is our own jet, we still have a luggage weight limit, you know."

Napoleon rolled his eyes. "Well I need at least two dinner suits, some clothes in case it's hot, some in case it's cold, a change of clothes for the afternoon…"

Illya's stare cut Napoleon off as the American looked at the Russian's small suitcase.

"Well you always do travel light, so it'll just have to go on the back seat."

Illya glared at him. "But we are going to be on the back seat."

Rebecca stepped in to smooth his ruffled feathers.

"We'll be alright, it just means that we'll have to cuddle up a bit closer together."

With that realisation, a slow smile and crafty glint appeared in his blue eyes.

"Mmm, I suppose it does."

The suitcase was put on the back seat, and Rebecca climbed in beside it, followed by the Russian who swiftly pulled her close, putting his arm around her.

"This does feel good _ljubóvnik_."

Napoleon put the car in gear and pulling away, was brought to an immediate stop at a traffic light.

The journey to LaGuardia was uneventful and they got to the secured part of the airport owned by UNCLE just before 6:00.

Napoleon pulled up outside the open hangar, got out and opened the door for Lizzie, ever the gentleman. He moved the front seat forward enabling Illya and Rebecca to easily exit the sports car.

"You know Rebecca you really should throw him back as you really don't know where he's been." Napoleon wisecracked.

Illya looked puzzled at this comment.

"Rebecca knows exactly where I have been."

Napoleon laughed, "it was a joke Illya."

He watched as Illya shook his head; his blond haired partner still not quite understanding some of these American sayings.

They all stood in the hangar doorway to admire the gleaming new jet as it stood there proudly in its grey and black livery. UNCLE no longer had their logos visible on their vehicles; they stopped doing that years ago when someone realised it was a dead giveaway when you were trying to move around secretly.

The jet was a shiny gunmetal grey overall with a black double stripe running around the aircraft about a third of the way up the fuselage.

The twin engines were at the back on either side of the fuselage and just before the tail, there were 'pods' at the tips of each wing that were the fuel tanks. The nose of the plane came to a sharp point, giving it a missile-like quality but with wings and a tail. Which is more or less what it was.

A tech came over to them, wiping his hands on an oily cloth.

"Good Morning Napoleon, Illya, Ladies. I've been told by Mr. Waverly to expect you. She's a beauty isn't she?"

"She sure is, Malcolm," replied Napoleon.

"I thought that Mark was travelling as well?"

"Yes, he's arriving shortly. May I leave my car in the hangar while we're gone please?"

"Yeah, sure, just tuck it over by the back wall, then I can still get the aircraft in for servicing."

"Can you go through the modifications with me please Malcolm?" The Russian asked.

He went around the outside of the aircraft, pointing things out and Illya examining the locations of the UNCLE modifications.

There were air as well as ground defences, ground penetrating radar, and radio jamming equipment and a whole host of other things that you wouldn't find on a normal Learjet.

Coming to the end of the tour Malcolm pointed out the landing gear.

"We have fitted specialised undercarriage which will allow the jet to land on soft ground if needed."

"That could be a useful feature." Replied Illya. "I see it has extra wingtip tanks too."

"Yup, it has a maximum range of 3800 miles."

As the Russian was examining the jet, Napoleon brought the luggage from the car and stowed it all safely in the cargo hold at the rear of the aircraft before parking his car. The women stepped up into the jet to see where they would be spending the next several hours or so.

The entrance was on the left hand side of the plane just behind the cockpit and boarding the plane, Rebecca and Lizzie found the interior spacious and comfortably equipped with plush carpet and grey leather seats.

They sat themselves down in the first row of seats and took in their surroundings.

"Ooh, I could get used to this, "Lizzie sighed.

"Yes, beats commercial airlines any day."

Illya and Malcolm entered the jet and made their way to the cockpit.

"I'm just going up front to see the flight deck, see you in a bit Rebecca," Illya said as he walked past her.

She went forward, following her blond haired lover as he turned and smiled at her. She stood behind him as he seated himself in the pilot's seat and listened as Malcolm pointed out where certain controls were that operated the UNCLE gadgets the plane had been outfitted with and how they operated.

Napoleon entered the plane and poked his head into the cockpit.

"We all set then? Everything of ours is all on-board and we're just waiting on Mark and Penny."

"Yes ," Illya said. "I am starting the pre-flight checks now."

Within minutes the engines whined as they started up and the aircraft came alive.

"Get yourselves strapped in and I will taxi it out of the hanger and will wait for them there."

Napoleon nodded returned to the cabin, closed the door and sat next to Lizzie.

Just as Illya had taxied the jet outside, Mark arrived. He parked the car next to the hanger and quickly retrieved their suitcase, stowing it in the cargo hold before opening the jet's door and climbing in. Penny and he hurried along the aisle, saying hello to everyone as they made their way to the second row of seats.

Illya spoke to the control tower, receiving permission to taxi from the apron outside the hanger to the start of the runway.

Just as he was about to move the jet forward an UNCLE taxi cab appeared and it screeched to a halt just feet away from the aircraft.

Illya brought the plane to a standstill, wondering what the problem was and Napoleon came forward to see why they had suddenly stopped and saw the taxi cab through the window.

"Who the hell is that?"

Illya gave him a dark look and growled, "If I knew that, I would tell you. Did you say anything about our excursion to anyone else?"

The occupant got out the taxi and stormed over to the jet. Illya looked crestfallen when he saw it was none other than April Dancer.

"I hope she has not come to cancel our trip."

"I think it's to join us, look she's carrying a suitcase," said Rebecca.

"Napoleon, open the door for her please. I wonder why she's on her own, she doesn't look happy." She looked at Illya, seeing he was trying not to explode, she reached over, patting his hand and smiled at him.

"It'll be fine Illya, don't get so cross _Moya lyubov_, one more isn't going to make any difference. I'm still loving it and can't wait to find out where you're taking me."

Eventually the Russian calmed down and raised the tower, apologising for the delay.

"Do you have a problem Lear-niner-three-sixer?"

"Negative that, tower, we just stopped to take on an unexpected passenger. Lear-niner-three-sixer is now ready to taxi."

"Roger that. You're cleared for Runway 4, Lear-niner-three-sixer"

Within minutes Illya had made a smooth take-off and proceeded to the altitude and bearing advised by the control tower. They were now finally on their way.

Ten minutes later they reached cruising altitude and speed and were heading towards Europe. Rebecca unbuckled her seatbelt and went to see what was up with April.

She was seated behind Mark and looked very cross. Napoleon had safely stowed away her case when she boarded and seated himself next to her for takeoff, unsure as to whether to put his arm around her shoulder or not, but she gratefully fell into his arms and started crying. Napoleon stroked her hair and Lizzie came and knelt down in front of her,holding her hands.

"What's the matter April?" she asked gently, looking at Napoleon to see if he had any idea, but he shook his head in response.

April sniffed. "Oh, look at me, you must think I'm silly crying like this, it's not like me at all."  
She wiped her eyes. "It's Paul, the son of a bitch decided that I'm not his type, he's been seeing someone else behind my back and he left me last night."

"Oh, We're sorry to hear that April, but, you're in the right place, we'll soon have you forgetting all about him. It's his loss and knowing you there'll be plenty more beau's lined up when you get back. We're all going to have a great time, and I can't remember the last time we all had time off together like this," Lizzie said soothingly.

April smiled. It felt good to be with her friends. Napoleon smiled at her reassuringly and stepped up to the nearby cabinet, opening it up.

"Well look here, we have a well stocked bar here. Drinks anyone?"

"Napoleon, it's not even 7: 00 a.m. Save them for later. Now is that a coffee maker I spy in there?" Said Penny. "I could do with with a cup of caffeine, come on April, let's make coffee for everyone."

The two women made the coffee in the small galley area while Mark and Napoleon swiveled their chairs around to face each other to allow for easier socializing during the long journey.

Rebecca accepted coffees from April for herself and Illya and took them to the cockpit. Illya glanced up as she entered, gladly accepting the cup from her and asked what was the matter with April.

"Man trouble I'm afraid, Paul left her."

"I am sorry to hear that." Illya said, softening a bit upon hearing the news.

After they finished their coffee, Illya made an announcement to her.

"Right, here is another part of my surprise for you; I am going to teach you to fly this aircraft."

He'd already taught her to fly small single engine planes like a Cessna, and she had a pilot's licence for that type of aircraft. But after gaining permission from the Old Man; he would give her some basing training on this new, twin engine jet.

Rebecca was delighted, and listened intently as her blond haired lover explained the controls and dials on the flight panel. She had the control column in her hands and while Illya still had full control he let her 'feel' the plane to give her an idea of the weight of the controls.

When he was satisfied that she was feeling the jet and the change in pilot wouldn't be too noticeable, he told her she had control.

"I have control." she confirmed.

"Good, you're doing fine, keep the attitude indicator level and keep on the heading 065°"

"That will take us to Europe won't it?"

"Yes _vozlyublennyy, _ we have to refuel at Shannon Airport in Ireland. That is almost at the limit of this jets range, even with the extra fuel tanks."

Illya kept a close eye on the instruments while Rebecca continued to fly the aircraft. He looked up to study her as she concentrated on the task in hand, realising he loved the way the morning sun was shining on her long brown, wavy hair as it tumbled down around her shoulders.

Her lips were slightly parted and she was running her tongue along her top lip,making him immediately want to kiss her and take her in his arms, so he looked back down and studied the instruments again satisfying himself that everything was fine and he could leave her for a short while.

It was going to be a seven hour flight and he needed to stretch his legs. He went to the cabin and asked Napoleon to take the pilots seat briefly while he made another round of coffee. April came over to help.

"I am sorry to hear that Paul has gone April."

"Don't worry about it Illya, I've had time to think and I'm better off without him. There were some things that didn't quite add up when I think back." She quickly changed the subject.

"I presume that Rebecca's flying, how's she doing?"

Illya smiled, his blue eyes shining. "She is doing well, she picks things up very quickly. I do not want to leave her too long though, Napoleon is experienced enough but not qualified as an instructor."

They took the freshly brewed coffee to the others in the cabin. Illya took the last three to the cockpit, giving one to Napoleon and thanked him for briefly sitting in for him.

"You're welcome tovarisch, Rebecca's doing very well, we're on course and maintaining altitude very nicely."

Napoleon left the cockpit and Illya put the last two coffees down within reach of Rebecca and himself.

"Do you want me to take back control or are you ok?"

"I'm fine _Moya lyubov_, she's an easy plane to fly, and I've only got to keep a straight line."

Illya remained seated beside Rebecca, sipping his coffee, and letting his mind fill with amorous thoughts about her, as the Learjet winged its way across the Atlantic.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4: All may be not as it seems_

The flight to Shannon Airport went without a hitch. Illya, Rebecca and Napoleon took turns flying the jet so they all felt they were on a break. When not flying they were relaxing in the cabin with the others.

Rebecca and Illya were at the flight controls when it came time to prepare for landing, the Russian contacted Flight Approach and were cleared for landing. He looked over to her as she was taking her turn flying the plane.

"Do you want to try the landing or would you like me to do it?"

"Do you think I can manage? I'm not used to landing such a fast aircraft."

"Yes, I do. Your first landings in the Cessna were almost textbook. I do not think you will have any problem landing this, just do not think about it being faster; and remember, I am here if you need help."

"Okay, I'll do it."

"Good, I knew you would."

"Lear-niner-three-sixer, you are cleared for runway 06. Please stay on your current heading and descend to 1500."

"Roger Tower, continue on heading 186 and descend to 1500."

Becca throttled back to bring the jet down to the requested altitude as they flew on a course parallel to the runway before making a 90 degree turn in preparation for the final approach.

"Time to make the last turn now and line up with the runway, reduce to 230 knots and bring us down to 500 feet."

He smiled as she smoothly brought the plane to the new heading and height.

"Good, nicely done, _moya lyubov_. Time to extend the undercarriage, and flaps need to be at 10 degrees."

"Gear down and locked, flaps at 10. How am I doing?"

"As I have said before; you are a natural pilot and doing extremely well."

"Mr. Kuryakin, you certainly know how to flatter a girl."

"Miss Andrews, just wait until tonight; I intend to do more than flatter you." He replied with a mischievous grin before becoming serious again. "Right, reduce to 180 knots and flaps at 20."

He called out the height as she gently brought the jet towards the runway. Just as she was about to touch down a gust of wind caught the aircraft and slew it slightly to the right, causing the starboard wheels to set down first a little heavily before the others made contact.

She applied a little left rudder to correct the Learjets orientation and headed straight down the centre of the runway, putting the engines in reverse to slow the jet down.

"Well done on the recovery, you handled that correctly." He said to her with pride.

Becca put the engines back to idle and eased the plane onto the taxiway taking them to the UNCLE hangar.

She was on an adrenaline high, partly from the unexpected crosswind but mostly due to the thrill of having flown such a powerful aircraft. It was going to take a while to come back down to earth.

She gently brought the learjet to a halt on the apron in front of the hangar and shut down the engines. Suddenly the quiet was deafening having grown used to the noise over the last seven hours.

They ran through the checklist, shutting down the jets systems and glad of a short break from flying. After they finished, Illya jumped from his seat and gave her the biggest hug and kiss, showing his pride in her efforts.

Together they went through to the cabin and Napoleon looked at his Russian partner with a raised eyebrow.

"Not quite one of your best landings, tovarisch."

Illya grinned. "I did not land the plane. Becca did and I thought she did extremely well."

Everyone congratulated her on her landing skills.

"Well, I think this calls for a celebration then," Napoleon said as he moved towards the liquor cabinet.

"I've been waiting to open this; I trust no one is going to object to the time of day?"

"I think we need to get something to eat. I'll go to the shop over at the terminal building. There is a small one if I remember right," Rebecca said as she opened the door and stepped down.

"We'll come with you," Penny said, with Lizzie and April chiming in as well.

The women crossed the tarmac to the shop arm in arm. Becca caught a glimpse of Illya and Napoleon smiling as they exited the jet; and she ventured a guess, they were thinking about what they were planning for the evening.

The two partners watched the women walking on their way to the terminal building.

"You've got a good one there, Illya."

"Yes, I am always amazed she is there when we come back after our assignments." He grinned at his partner. "You have not done too bad yourself. I am glad you have found happiness with Lizzie, my friend."

"Thanks, partner; coming from you, that means a lot. I never believed I'd really fall in love with someone. I'm lucky that she forgives my past dalliances."

"Even with Angelique?" He smirked.

"Especially with her."

Laughing, Illya looked towards the hangar wondering why they hadn't been greeted yet. "I thought a tech would have come over by now. They are expecting us."

Mark poked his head out the door.

"I'll stay here and keep an eye on the plane if you want to go check the hangar out. Is it me or does it seem a bit quiet around here?"

Nodding their thanks, they walked towards the hangar and just as they were about to open the door, a dishevelled man came hurrying out making them hustle out of his way to avoid being knocked flying.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I do apologise. I meant to come out sooner, but was held up with a phone call. I'll go and get the Avgas truck and refuel the jet now." The missing tech spoke quickly, with an Irish accent. "Oh my she is a beauty isn't she? How did she fly? Well I should think, she looks top of the range."

Napoleon raised his hands to stop the Irishman in mid flow, he was talking so fast and with such a thick accent they could barely keep up.

"Don't panic, we're not in any hurry. Could you talk a bit slower please?"

"Oh, yes, sorry. Nerves I guess. It's not often we get top UNCLE agents to our little facility way out here. I forgot my manners too. I'm Cormac, Cormac Quinn."

He wiped his sweaty palms on his overalls before shaking the hands of the two agents. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise Mr. Quinn, I am Illya Kuryakin and this is my partner Napoleon Solo."

The American noticed that part of the Irishman's little finger was missing as he shook his hand.

"If you can point me in the direction of your office I will sign the necessary paperwork for you," the Russian said.

"Oh, no, no, no, isn't necessary. Everything's in order, there's no need to sign anything."

Napoleon and Illya looked at each other, each giving a silent message to the other, though no one else would pick up on it.

Illya shrugged. "Alright, I will make the ground checks on the jet while you take care of the fuel."

He glanced at Napoleon with a look that said, '_I do not like this, keep alert' _and Napoleon gave the slightest of nods to confirm he understood.

Napoleon boarded the jet, activating his communicator.

"Open channel D please."

Mark looked at him with enquiring eyes, wondering what was going on.

"Is there a problem?"

Napoleon shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know yet, possibly."

"Waverly here. Mr. Solo, I thought you would be well into your vacation by now. Is there a problem?"

"I'm not sure, sir. We are at Shannon Airport and the tech seems to be unusually nervous. I just want to check his details."

"Give me a few minutes Mr. Solo, while I locate the personnel files for that hangar. I will contact you shortly."

"Thank you, sir. Solo out." He closed his communicator, putting it into his jacket pocket.

'_Now all we can do is wait and see,_' he thought to himself.

"Should we go and get the ladies. Are they safe do you think?" Mark asked.

"No, leave them for now, they should be fine. If there's something going on, they'll be safer where there's people around."

Napoleons communicator beeped. "Solo here."

"Ah, Mr. Solo. I have the files for that hangars personnel, there are currently four UNCLE technicians working there, Mr. Declan O'Connor, Mr. Patrick Flynn, Mr. Cormac Quinn and Mr. Kieran O'Rourke."

"Can you give me the description of Mr. Quinn please, sir?"

"Yes, he's down here as 5ft 8, well built, light brown hair, wears glasses and the first joint on the little finger of his right hand is missing."

"Thank you, sir. The description fits him perfectly, he must just be a nervous character."

"Very well then, good bye Mr. Solo. Oh, and Mr. Solo, please make sure you bring the aircraft back. Preferably in one piece."

"Yes, Sir. Solo out."

"Everything okay then?" Mark asked.

"Seems to be. I suppose given our line of work we're suspicious by nature towards anyone who acts a little strange."

"Well you can't be too careful in our line of work mate. Cor, here come our lady friends now and looks like they went on a spree."

Illya entered the cabin just as the women returned with handfuls of bags.

"April, you just can't resist shopping wherever you are, can you," Mark laughed when he saw how much she was carrying.

"How on earth did you find so much to buy, it was only a very small shop," Napoleon quipped.

"We had to stop her from buying up the other half the shop. She claimed it was therapeutic." Rebecca said as they piled in after April.

"It's the best kind of therapy I know of." April pouted. "And besides, you're not much different when it comes to shopping, Becca."

"And do I not know it, just how many shoes can one woman wear? That I will never understand." The Russian teased, giving his girlfriend a smirk. "Well, I hope there is food in amongst that lot. I am starving."

"Illya, you are always hungry. I don't know where you put it all, and I don't have that many shoes, only twenty three at last count," Rebecca said, rolling her eyes.

They removed the food from the bags and spread it out on a table they had put up and tucked in. There were some take away containers with a selection of traditional Irish meals; Cottage pie, Colcannon made with cabbage, sausages, Boxty, a kind of potato pancake as well as brown bread. They followed this with some Turkish delight for dessert.

The cottage pie reminded Illya of a Russian dish called 'Kartofel'naya zapekanka', consisting of layers of mashed potatoes, minced beef and onions and , enjoying it immensely, helped himself to more.

"Hello? Are you in there?" Cormac came to the doorway of the plane. "I'm ready to fuel you up, but I can't find the access point. I've not had to do a jet like this before."

"I will come and show you. I will be with you shortly." Illya finished his second helping before going out to help the tech.

"I'll put your shopping in the cargo hold for you April. I think there is enough room in there," Napoleon said, rising to pick up the bags.

"My God what is in these? I'm surprised you could carry them," Napoleon said.

Illya was outside showing the tech where to put the fuel when he felt a sting on the back of his neck, he assumed it was an insect and batted it away, not seeing a minute needle-like object as it fell to the floor.

Moments later the same thing happened to Napoleon as he was stowing April's bags in the cargo area at the back of the plane; he too thinking it was an insect and, like Illya, he swatted it away.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5: Darts Anyone?_

Once the aircraft was re-fueled, Illya and Rebecca walked around it, running through the ground checks and when all was completed, settled into the cockpit.

It was late afternoon as he raised the control tower and asked for clearance, while Becca once again took the controls ready for taxing to the runway for take-off under his instruction.

With permission obtained, they made their way to the end of the runway and she executed a perfect take-off. She glanced to her blue eyed Russian and he squeezed her hand and smiled.

"See, I knew you could do it."

"So, where are we going to now. Do I finally get to know?"

"You will find out soon enough _zavetnyy_. We need to come round to 105° and follow that course for about an hour."

Rebecca gently banked the aircraft to the right a few degrees from the course they were on.

"Good, that is perfect. I am proud of you, you will be a very good pilot."

"I think I know where we're going now, is it Belgium by any chance, more specifically Bruges?"

She glanced over and could see his lopsided smile and the glint in his eyes confirming that she was right.

"I knew it would not be long before you would work it out."

After about twenty minutes in the air she felt something was not quite right. She looked over and sensed Illya was a bit distant and not completely with it. He looked back at her strangely with a puzzled look on his face and slumped forward.

With his full body weight suddenly pushing on the control column, the jet went into a dive and the controls were wrenched from Rebecca's hands.

Without a second thought she grabbed the column and pulled back on it until the jet was flying level again. It was a struggle to keep it that way as she was having to fight with Illya's deadweight slumped against the panel; only then did she start to worry about him.

She heard a commotion in the cabin behind her when Mark came forward, he was about to ask what had happened when he saw Illya.

"Help me. Move Illya, he's pushing against the control column and I'm struggling to fly the plane, please hurry."

"What happened to him? Napoleon is out cold too."

Mark squeezed in the space behind Illya and unclipped his harness and, with difficulty, maneuvered him out of his seat. He pulled the unconscious agent into the cabin and with Penny and Aprils help managed to get him strapped into a chair.

Lizzie was feeling for Napoleons pulse and checking him over.

"Look here, there's a small red mark on his neck." She pointed out to April.

"It looks like a puncture wound, is there one on Illya?"

Mark and Penny checked him over and found one as well.

"I wonder what has caused them and why," Mark said.

As Lizzie worked in UNCLE Medical, she checked both agents vitals as best as she could. Their pulses were stable, breathing seemed to be fine and pupil responses looked to be normal.

For all intents and purposes, they appeared to simply be asleep; they all hoped this was the case.

"I think as long as their vitals don't change, they should be okay until we can get them checked over. I'll keep an eye on them for the time being."

"Thanks Lizzie, that's reassuring; but what I'd like to know is why it only happened to them and not us," Mark commented.

"Maybe it was when we were in the shop, but then you were with them Mark, so why didn't it happen to you?"

"Not a clue April, though I was in here most of the time; maybe that's why?"

Thinking about what had happened, April suddenly realised what had been averted.

"If Illya hadn't been teaching Rebecca to fly this jet, we'd all be….."

"I know, there would have been no way we could have stopped the jet from crashing… none of us could have flown it. Apart from Rebecca..." Mark interjected as he glanced at Illya and Napoleon. " They were the only other ones on board capable of flying this plane."

"Did anyone know Illya was going to teach Becca to fly this thing? " Penny asked.

"No, I don't think so; but more worrisome is how did the details of our flight get out?" April asked.

"You think there was a leak and whoever did this fully expected everyone on this aircraft to die." Lizzie shivered.

April heard Rebecca calling from the cockpit, she went forward and sat beside her.

"How's Illya?"

"Lizzie's checked him over; she says his vitals appear to be okay and it looks like he's sleeping. How are you coping?"

"I'm alright, Mark said Napoleons out too. What do you think happened?"

"We're not sure, but it's a good job Illya was teaching you to fly this thing, else we'd all be…"

"Oh my God, who would want to do that?"

They looked at each other and both came to the conclusion at the same time. "THRUSH."

"I was going to ask if we should continue to Bruges or turn back; but if THRUSH is behind this, we need to go back and get some answers, and them some medical help."

"Good idea, how far are we away from Shannon?"

"About 35 minutes away."

"I'll go tell the others."

April went back and told the others the plan. They all felt the aircraft banking round onto a new heading that would take them to Shannon.

"I think we need to inform Mr. Waverly about what's happened."

She activated her communicator and spoke with the New York Chief, explaining what had occured and finishing with, "Yes, sir, we'll keep you informed."

Mark returned to the cockpit, telling the others, "I'll sit with Rebecca and help where I can; hopefully, if they are only asleep, just until Illya wakes up."

Mark sat next to Rebecca and listened to her talking to air traffic control, informing them of the problem they were encountering. She received permission to return to Shannon and the offer of the airport emergency services, which she refused except for medical help.

"You seem to be handling things well," Mark said with some admiration.

Rebecca smiled, "I've had a good teacher."

"Yes, Illya will be proud of you, I don't think we could be in better hands."

The short return flight was uneventful and they made a near perfect landing, and taxied back to the UNCLE hangar.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6: A Thrush Sings_

Rebecca kept herself calm and concentrated on making a smooth landing. Safely on the ground she moved the sleek aircraft down the runway and eased it slowly along the taxiway until she brought it to a full stop, not that far from the hangar and letting the jet engines power down.

With Marks help, she went through the checklist shutting the rest of the onboard systems.

"Well I didn't think we'd be back here so soon." The British agent sighed.

She took off her harness and went through to the cabin; finding Illya and Napoleon there, still unconscious. Becca tenderly brushed some of her Russian's hair back from his eyes with her hand, feeling fear in the pit of her stomach, wondering if he would recover.

"Lizzie, Penny," April called to them, "Will you be okay here with Napoleon and Illya if me, Rebecca and Mark go to find that tech and see if we can get some help as well as some answers?"

"Sure we can keep an eye on them. Hopefully they'll come around and we can let them know what happened," Penny replied."

"Thanks."

The three agents stepped down from the jet, heading directly to the hangar. Mark made a subtle move, reaching beneath his jacket and withdrawing his Special, as his partner and Rebecca eyed him quizzically.

"Were you expecting trouble?"

Mark grinned. "Sorry, force of habit."

April and Rebecca looked at each other, and following Marks lead; they drew their weapons as well. Better to err on the side of caution.

With guns at the ready, they entered the hangar through a small service door within the main door, spotting two UNCLE aircraft within, one a helicopter and the other a smaller, older jet. The tech, Cormac Quinn was nowhere to be seen.

"I say we split up and check things out, but stay in sight of each other," Mark whispered. He headed to the helicopter, while April went to the jet.

Rebecca was moving toward the office in the far corner of the hangar, when a shot rang out, sending the three agents flying for cover.

A second shot was fired and by that point they knew it had come from the office.

"If any of you move any nearer I won't miss, the first two were warning shots. I didn't think I'd see any of you alive again. I'd like to know what went wrong, but unfortunately, I have to be going."

The door to the office opened and two figures stepped out. A tall dark haired man with a distinctive scar across his left cheek held a very frightened looking Cormac as a shield in front of him.

He opened the door next to the office and just before stepping through, he pushed Cormac away and quickly disappeared; only to be stopped dead in his tracks and he fell back through to the hangar floor, unconscious.

Napoleon appeared at the door, seemingly none the worse for wear and stepped lightly over the unconscious man. Followed closely by his Russian partner; Napoleon held a pipe in his hand that he used to stop 'Scarface' from making his hasty exit.

"I told you not to hit him that hard, you only needed to stun him and not knock him out," Illya complained.

Napoleon rolled his eyes. "At least I picked the right door. I told you he'd use the back one."

April, Mark and Rebecca dusted themselves off after getting up from the floor, with relief showing on their faces, happy at being rescued as well as the fact that Napoleon and Illya seemed to be none the worse for their drugged sleep. The three of them walked over to take a better look at the unconscious man.

"Does anyone recognise him?" April asked.

"I am not sure, but he looks a bit like Richard Gamble, though he did not have a scar the last time I saw him." Illya looked to Napoleon. "What do you think?"

Napoleon squatted down for a closer inspection.

"I think you could be right there, partner mine. But what would he be doing all the way out here?"

"Hmm, yes, I thought THRUSH would have 'disposed' of him after the last time he encountered us."

They came across Richard Gamble a few years ago in California and there he was a fairly minor THRUSH operative with grand ideas. He developed a new powerful laser weapon in the hopes that he would gain recognition from THRUSH Central.

The new weapon had indeed caught the attention of the powerful members of the organisation and he was promised a promotion if the laser would perform as promised in its ability to destroy cities. It was UNCLEs job to see that it didn't.

Napoleon and Illya located the weapon, after chasing him across most of the West Coast, and destroyed it, but during the process he escaped. The last they heard, THRUSH Central was on the lookout for Gamble in order to demonstrate to him their displeasure for being made fools of.

"Enough talk. I think we need to secure him before he comes round," April said.

She checked him over, removing all his weapons before going over to the visibly shaken Cormac as he stood with Rebecca.

"Is your office secure?"

"Oh my, err, yes, yes it is. It's up to UNCLE standards for use as a holding cell, if that's what ya mean. I never expected to be involved in anything like this; I knew the risks when I took the job, but it's been such a dead-end place, and I didn't think we would be bothered here."

Rebecca and Illya moved Gamble to the office, ensuring he was tied to a chair bolted down to the floor in the corner of the office.

Rebecca looked over to Illya.

"How are you feeling _moya lyubov_?"

"Like my head has been pummelled. I really hate THRUSH drugs."

"I'm glad you came round when you did." She leaned over, giving him a quick kiss.

"I heard you did a good job of flying the plane back here and you made the right choice in returning to Shannon as well. I am very proud of you."

Just then the THRUSH agent moaned and started to come to; straining against his bonds.

Mark and April were outside and looked in through the large window at the front of the office. Napoleon joined Rebecca and Illya inside.

The THRUSH agent was awake now and looking for a way to escape.

"Who are you working for? And where's your base?" Napoleon asked.

Gamble glared at him with contempt.

"Like I'm going to tell you anything," he snarled.

"Oh, I think you will, and quite willingly I might add," Illya replied.

"You can do your worst, but I won't reveal anything to the likes of you. Your truth serums won't work either. You might like to know we cracked your latest versions and it won't have any effect on me."

"Well lucky for you, we're not like you thugs, we don't need to beat it out of you." Napoleon looked to Illya. "Partner mine, it looks like it's back to the drawing board for you again too."

Illya sighed, rolling his eyes. "That will be the third version this year. They are getting too good at figuring out my formulas. It is a good job you are here Rebecca." He called to her

The THRUSH agent spat at them. "Ha. What's she going to do? Charm it out of me?"

"Actually, in a way, yes." Napoleon grinned.

"Seduction won't work either; you are wasting your time."

Illya smiled with a dark look in his eyes, staring straight at Gamble.

"Oh, it will not be seduction, I can assure you of that, but I doubt very much that your organisation has yet developed any resistance therapy against my colleagues' particular methods."

"So you're getting your girlfriends to do your dirty work for you, huh?"

"Miss Andrews is very good at what she does and has one of the highest success rates in the whole of the UNCLE organisation. You, my THRUSH friend, should be very honoured; usually she only works with your top ranking members, not the low-lifes such as yourself."

Richard was now starting to become uncomfortable, he looked up at her. She didn't seem threatening; he couldn't see how she would get anything from him. He admired her beauty and thought about what he would like to do to her as a leer spread across his face as he imagined it.

Rebecca walked over to him. Illya and Napoleon backed away, quietly perching themselves on the desk in front of the window, and leaving her do her work but ready to help if she needed it.

Richard saw the female agent take something from around her neck, and he strained to see what it was. She had a locket on a chain and was looking at it.

"Why is she choosing a time like this to look at her necklace?" He wondered to himself.

Curious, he tried to peek at it. Rebecca saw that and held it up for him to see it better.

"Pretty isn't it? It's very special to me".

It was the first time he heard her speak and he found her voice soothing, it was lyrical, song-like and very relaxing.

"Would you like to see it a bit closer? Here have a look."

The locket was swinging slightly back and forth and the light reflecting on its surface made it mesmerising to watch; he couldn't take his eyes from it.

"It has an engraving on the front called a Celtic Knot, it has no beginning and no end; it's everlasting, like the love of the person who gave this to me."

The locket was still swinging slightly and it held his attention solidly.

She kept talking to him in her sing-song voice.

"It was a gift from my Mother when I was seven, I felt so grown up to be given such a special piece of jewellery and I have treasured it ever since. My best memories as a child are when I was seven or eight, do you remember being that age?"

Richard tried to think that far back, he felt compelled to; the voice was speaking about things he used to do when he was around that age.

"It's the age when you always told the truth to your mother. You never told lies to your mum when you were seven did you? The pain of hurting her if you fibbed would be too much to bear for such a good little boy."

Rebecca could see that he was nearly ready to cooperate, though he didn't know it.

"Now I know that you are going to be a good boy and tell Mother the truth now, aren't you?"

In Richard Gambles mind, he was sitting down, looking at his mother standing right there in front of him. He was amazed to find he was in the kitchen of his childhood home. She smiled at him and ruffled his hair like she used to do, he felt safe, protected, and he smiled back at her. He loved her so dearly.

"Richard, what have you been doing today?"

What Richard thought he was saying, was not what was leaving his lips. Rebecca had him in a hypnotic trance where he believed that his mother, normally the one person in his life that he would tell his innermost secrets to, was asking him what he had been doing.

The answers he thought he was giving were a child's simple ones, what was actually being spoken was more pertinent and revealing.

"Richard, what have you been doing today?"

He thought he said, _'I was playing a game with some friends._' What he actually said was, **"following the orders of THRUSH."**

"What did you have to do?"

Thinking,_ 'I had to find my friends, they were hiding.'_ He said, **"I was told to remove the two UNCLE agents Solo and Kuryakin."**

"How were you to do this?" Rebecca asked.

Thinking, '_Scamp helped me, he followed their scent'_ he actually said **"I was given one of our new miniature dart guns and told to aim for the neck, it would take about half an hour for the drug to work."**

"Why were you told to do this?"

_'It was my turn to seek, I was the first one to be found in the last game._' **"THRUSH found out about the plane trip, it was a good opportunity to eliminate them."**

"Who gave the orders?"

"Paul Vicary."

Rebecca glanced over to Illya and Napoleon, fighting to keep her racing heart calm. She couldn't let her voice change or he would come out of the trance he was in. Surely the name must be just a coincidence; it couldn't be April's last boyfriend, could it?

"What link is he to THRUSH?"

"He is the head of my Satrap"

"Where is this Satrap?"

"We are starting a new one here in Ireland, near Killeagy."

She again looked over to her colleagues; they heard this too and were listening intently.

"How long have you been constructing it?"

"We started six months ago. We are utilising some old abandoned mine workings."

"When do you think it will be completed?"

"It is scheduled to be finished within the next eight months."

"Is Cormac a member of THRUSH?"

"No, we just used him, he's loyal to UNCLE."

"OK, Richard, you've been a good boy."

Rebecca brought the locket to a stop and fastened it back around her neck, she went over to the two agents and leaned against Illya, he put his arms around her.

"He will come out of it after about 5 minutes"

"I never tire of watching you interrogate _vozlyublennyy_."

"It would have been easier if we had the tape, I could have gotten more from him."

Rebecca and Illya had developed a cassette tape of her hypnotic voice that would be played to THRUSH agents in the holding cell, priming them, so they would be ready for her suggestive hypnotism.

April came into the office with Mark and Cormac, having watched Becca at work through the window.

"I've never seen an interrogation like that before. No wonder you're sought after, you certainly do get the answers." April looked away. "Even ones you don't want to hear"

Rebecca went over to April and put her arm around her.

"Do you really think it is your Paul?"

April looked at the others.

"Yes, I do. The more I think about it, things that didn't make sense at the time are now becoming clear."

"It was a bit strange that he should leave you so suddenly, the night before this trip. He must have left as soon as he found out," Illya interjected.

Napoleon's face showed his concern. "We must be getting a bit lax in our personnel security checks to have missed him being a member of THRUSH."

Richard was coming around from his interrogation and in minutes was fully awake. He saw the UNCLE agents in the room with him speaking with each other and assumed that they didn't get anything from him.

"I told you that you wouldn't get anything from me, your interrogation techniques have no affect on me."

Gamble gave Rebecca his full, lecherous attention.

"I'll have to show you how THRUSH interrogates women, you might learn something."

Rebecca cooly walked over to him.

"Oh, but you gave me more information than you'll ever know and you know what will happen to you when THRUSH finds out."

Richard spat, and sneered at her with contempt.

"I would not do that again if I were you. I may not be as 'pleasant' as my friend here is." Illya turned to his partner "What do we do with him?"

"Oh, I think he's fairly secure for the moment. We'll arrange for an escort to take him to headquarters in London. They can deal with him." Napoleon turned to Cormac. "Have you been taught to handle a gun?"

Cormac looked at the man tied to the chair, swallowed and looked back to Napoleon.

"That was one of the things I was quite good at, apart from fixing planes and choppers. But I never thought I would need to use one." He walked over to the desk, opened a drawer and took out his UNCLE special.

"I think it would be a good idea to keep your gun with you at all times, you never know when you might need it," Illya advised the Irishman. "I take it you do have a shoulder holster?"

Napoleon grinned at his partner as he watched Cormac lift the holster from the drawer as well, put it on with ease and then checked his gun.

"If Gamble so much as sneezes, dart him, Cormac," Napoleon said. "I'll contact London HQ and have him picked up. They should be here in about an hour and a half."

Cormac sat on the desk opposite the prisoner and settled down for the wait.

"Where are you going, what are you going to do now?" Cormac asked.

"Well, my friends and I have a new satrapy to find. Keep a close eye on this one and don't believe anything he tells you," replied Becca.

They all walked out from the office and across the hangar to the waiting Learjet, where Lizzie and Penny were patiently waiting, The agents knew now their short vacation was unfortunately cut short, as they needed to decide on a plan of action.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7:_

The engines, once again, whined into life. Clearance was obtained and special permission granted to fly over County Clare and around Killeagy.

Settled in his seat, Napoleon opened communications; first to London to request an escort team for their captive, then to Mr. Waverly to apprise him of what had been happening ,and their intentions to discover and neutralise the new satrapy.

"Thank you for your report Mr. Solo. It looks like your break has come to an end prematurely, if it really started in the first place. I will treat this as an assignment and re-arrange your rest days for you all. Keep me informed please."

"Yes sir, and thank you it's much appreciated. I'll let the others know. Solo out." Closing his communicator, he placed in back in his pocket.

"Do you think there'll be many of them in this new base they're constructing?" Lizzie asked, snuggling up to Napoleon while she could, trying to calm her nerves.

Unlike him, she didn't work in the field, so she was feeling a little excited, and at the same time apprehensive at being involved.

Putting his arm around her and feeling her uneasiness, he pulled her closer.

"Oh, I don't think so. It sounds like it's in the early stages, so hopefully, it'll mainly be construction workers with just a few guards," he said trying to sooth her.

Rebecca studied the map as Illya was taxiing to the runway.

"Killeagy is about twelve miles North East of us and there's roughly four square miles of open ground to search," she informed him, and grinned, "that's going to be fun."

Smiling, he glanced over and indicated a group of switches and a small LCD screen above them on a part of the flight panel nearest to her.

"Those are the ground penetrating radar controls. That should make our job of searching a bit easier, but it will need to warm up first. That switch there will activate it; no, not that one, the one to the left, yes, that one."

She flicked the switch and a low humming started as the radar went through its startup routine.

"We should be there in under five minutes once we get airborne," Becca stated.

"We are ready to go, do you want to take control _ljubónvik?"_

"Not this time, I think I'll leave it to you."

He smiled. "Here we go again, time to put a stop to our feathered friends plans."

Within minutes they were hurtling down the runway before becoming airborne once more.

By the time they reached Killeagy the equipment was ready. Illya reduced the jets speed to just above stalling, giving the radar the best possible chance of finding anything.

"There's few small villages, but it's mostly open hilly ground and rocky outcroppings, a good place to hide," she commented looking out the window as they flew to their destination.

"Mmm, it will not be easy to find them, they are usually quite good at covering their tracks."

Arriving at the indicated area they circled a couple of times looking for any obvious evidence and finding none, though they didn't really expect to.

Illya then flew the jet back and forth in a grid pattern and slowly an underground picture began to emerge on the small screen located in the flight deck.

Napoleon came into the cockpit and stood behind Becca, studying the radar readout.

"Hmm, that's starting to look interesting there," he pointed to an area on the screen, "Illya try a bit further to your left on your next sweep."

"This would be so much easier in a helicopter," the Russian grumbled.

"We have to be grateful for what we've got, Tovarisch, it's better than nothing."

"I hope they do not realise that we are on to them, they must be able to hear us flying around."

"Just hope they don't shoot at us if they do, The Old Man doesn't want the paintwork to get scratched."

Illya glanced at his partner incredulously, "This is no time to joke."

He looked at the Russian and replied, straight faced, "Who says I'm joking? Waverly's deadly serious," he said before breaking into a grin.

The American studied the image again then looked out the cockpit window.

"Over there, near that rocky outcropping, can you see anything?"

"I can not see much from this height. If we fly a bit lower, we may be able to get a better look." Illya replied.

"It's a real maze down there according to this radar image," Rebecca said, "It definitely looks like there's a tunnel, but it's hard to tell if it ends below ground or not."

lllya lowered the altitude, and it was then Rebecca spoke first.

"Yes, I think there's something there by that stand of trees."

"I will find a suitable place to land, the ground looks firm enough."

The Russian silently thanked the UNCLE techs for thinking of fitting the modified landing gear; without it, landing on the soft ground would not be possible.

"I think it is time for you to get strapped in Napoleon. I do not know how rough landing on this surface will be."

Napoleon put his hand on his partner's shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. Illya knew its meaning. 'I have faith in you'.

He turned the aircraft around and lowered the landing gear, hoping that he had chosen well and it would be firm enough for the jet to land on.

They touched down and immediately he put the engines in reverse to bring the aircraft to a halt as quickly as possible; breathing a sigh of relief as it came to a stop with about 50 ft. to spare of his impromptu runway.

"We will not shut everything down Becca, I want to keep most of the flight systems live in case we need to make a quick getaway."

"Okay, that's a good idea, tell me which ones you want left."

After shutting down the non-essential equipment, they went through to the cabin and discussed how to go about destroying this new satrapy.

"We've weapons in a locker in the back, I'll see what's there," Napoleon said.

He returned with explosives, a couple of high powered rifles and several clips of ammunition and darts for their specials.

"Someone needs to stay with the plane, I'll stop here with Penny and keep a lookout while you go, this place could be crawling for all we know."

"Okay, thanks Mark. Right, time to see if we can eradicate this new feathered nest," Napoleon said.

They left the jet and headed towards a small copse of trees and bushes on a rocky outcropping.

"There's a path here, quite worn too," Becca called.

As they got nearer they could see the mouth of what looked like a small natural cave, partly obscured by the bushes and trees.

When they entered, it was bigger than they realised and looked more like a tunnel with the walls and ceiling supported by thick oak beams four foot apart; it was an old mine.

"I suggest we check for booby traps as we go, don't want to alert them to our presence if they don't already know we're here," April advised.

"No sign of any guards yet anyway, though I'm not sure if that's good or bad," Rebecca said.

They followed the tunnel, watching out for anything suspicious when it curved to the left.

"Stay here, I will take a look," Illya said.

He could just about see with what light was coming in from the entrance, but still took a moment to let his eyes adjust.

He caught his breath as there was a guard about twenty feet away. Illya carefully aimed at the man, darting him easily and he crumpled to the floor, out like a light.

"Only one, and he will be sleeping peacefully for a few hours," the Russian told the others when he returned.

"Lets see where this tunnel leads us to then," Rebecca suggested.

They carried on down the tunnel as quickly and silently as they could, all the while going deeper and deeper underground, stopping at every corner and checking to see if the coast was clear. They didn't come across any more guards.

"It seems no one's at home," Napoleon commented quietly as he turned another corner before stopping suddenly.

"Then again maybe I spoke too soon."

The tunnel opened out to a large lit cavern, three more tunnels leading from it, these also lit up by lights attached to the ceiling. They were all connected by a thick cable which disappeared down a tunnel from where a humming sound emanated.

Around the circumference of the walls were banks of computers, lights flashing on their surfaces. Illya put on his glasses and began examining the machines.

"Nothing special happening, I think they are synchronising with their main computer, I do not think they have been online long."

Napoleon went down one of the other tunnels, gun at the ready returning in a few scant minutes.

"It branches off into more tunnels down there. This place is a warren, it would take us months to find out how far it all goes. I think the best thing we can do is to set them back a bit and wait for reinforcements."

The humming became louder as Illya and Rebecca explored the tunnel, following where the cables disappeared. They came to a room with a monstrous looking generator.

"It looks like they are planning a major base here, seeing the size of this, I think we may need to do something about it," he whispered with a glint in his eye.

He proceeded to attach some explosives to it, adding a time delay detonator and setting it for twelve minutes, giving them enough time to leave and some to spare in case they met with any resistence.

He planned to destroy the power source and some of the cavern, but aimed to leave the tunnel intact to enable them to make their escape. He knew they would need to come back with more equipment to be able to completely destroy the facility.

They jogged back down the tunnel and into the cavern. Just as they emerged and joined the others, three THRUSH agents came from one of the other tunnels in deep discussion with each other followed by two guards.

They all became aware of each other at about the same time.

Napoleon and the others had a slight advantage as they had their weapons ready and they fired off the first shots. One dart hit its mark and a guard fell, the other guard fired, narrowly missing the American.

Their rivals now had their guns in hand and were firing, one shot grazed Illya's arm, but was just a flesh wound. He returned the compliment and another guard went down.

Looking to see how Napoleon and the others were doing, he saw Becca first, she was throwing some punches at her attacker and within seconds, managed to stun him with a blow to his head and he fell to the ground. That was three down.

Lizzie was with Napoleon, they were fighting off one of the other goons who had him held in a headlock. Managing to get behind the assailant, she swiftly kicked him between the legs. Letting Napoleon go, he crumpled to the ground groaning and holding his groin.

"Thank you, _ma chérie_, you certainly showed him who was boss." He grinned as he grabbed her hand and ran towards the Russian who was yelling something.

There was one left now and April was dealing with him.

"We need to get out of here," Illya yelled, panting slightly after the fight, "The generator will go off in about four minutes."

Upon hearing his warning, they all ran for the safety of the cave at the end of the tunnel, hoping the fight hadn't cost them too much time.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8: A bit overboard on the explosives._

They ran back down the tunnel, hoping they wouldn't meet resistance on the way out. Hopefully anyone intending to come from that direction had already been caught by Mark and Penny.

They were almost near the entrance when the generator blew, the blast coming down the tunnel with such a force it knocked them off their feet and dislodged some of the heavy oak beams supporting the walls and ceiling of the tunnel.

Picking themselves up from the floor, they brushed themselves down, Napoleon glancing around to check that everyone was okay.

After examining the damage to yet another suit, he looked to Illya and noticed he was inspecting a bloody tear in his own jacket sleeve.

"You're hurt?"

"I am fine, it is nothing."

"A little overboard on the explosives don't you think?"

Illya grinned, eyes sparkling and pointed to his friend's damaged jacket.

"Another suit ruined, I see. You must keep those Italian tailors in business, single-handedly."

Napoleon gave him a despairing look. "If you didn't like your big bangs so much, I wouldn't need to keep going back to them.

"ILLYA, watch out," Rebecca shouted rushing headlong into him, pushing him over.

There was a loud rumbling and clouds of dust and debris billowed out as one of the large oak beams, suddenly came crashing down.

He picked himself up from the floor for a second time and gazed behind him at the settling dust cloud.

"Rebecca, are you alright? Becca speak to me, where are you?"

There was no answer as he searched for her through the haze.

"Napoleon, can I have some help please?" He asked, almost in a whisper.

The quiet calmness of his partner's voice set alarm bells ringing in Napoleon's head, and he went quickly to where Illya was standing.

The dust had settled and they could now see Rebecca lying on her side, the huge oak beam crushing her, she was barely conscious.

They tried to move the timber from her; knowing it could aggravate her injuries to remove it, but they couldn't leave her there. It was heavy and the confined space, caused by the debris around them, made it difficult, but they finally moved it.

The Russian immediately went to her side, a tightness in his chest, fearing the worst. He sat cradling Rebecca's head in his lap, smoothing her hair, and talking quietly to her.

Her breathing was very shallow, with a slight gurgling sound. Blood trickling from her nose and mouth stained the front of his shirt as he held her.

Lizzie made her way over to them. Kneeling down, she felt for Becca's pulse. It was extremely weak. She could see the pain Illya was feeling reflected in his eyes and her heart went out to him.

April and Napoleon looked inquiringly to Lizzie as she got up and walked towards them, she shook her head slightly; tears welling up in her eyes.

Napoleon knelt down next to his friend, putting his hand on the Russian's shoulder offering his support, while April and Lizzie comforted each other. They knew Rebecca was dying.

Suddenly, her eyes flickered open. Slowly they focused and locked onto Illya's.

"_Ya tebya lyublyu,"_ she whispered, smiling up at him as her eyes closed once more.

Her breathing became more laboured, then finally stopped as she went limp in his arms. He held her tighter, rocking her as silent tears fell. His worst fear had happened. He'd lost her.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9: To finish what was started_

"_Nyet. Nyet, NYET_."

Illya gently laid Rebecca down and proceeded to thump her chest.

"You are not leaving me," he choked.

Feeling for her pulse, he found nothing. He thumped again trying to shock her heart into beating, then started chest compressions and gave her mouth to mouth.

He knew she would more than likely have severe internal injuries and was probably making them worse; but he had to try.

"Illya, what are you doing? She's gone," Napoleon was shocked by his partner's actions.

The Russian looked up, still continuing with his CPR. "A little hope and luck is better than none at all."

Solo immediately knew what he was talking about, most at UNCLE knew about the 'Solo luck', his friend was now hoping on some of it extending to Rebecca.

Feeling the desperation in his partner, he knelt down to help; taking over the mouth to mouth while Illya continued with the chest compressions.

Lizzie checked for a pulse and, thinking she felt something, signalled for Illya to stop.

He sat back on his heels and looked to her, hope in his eyes.

"Yes. There's a pulse. Faint, but it's there," she exclaimed.

"Welcome back, _moya lyubov_," the Russian whispered, smiling with relief.

Napoleon kept up with the mouth to mouth while Lizzie moved closer to him and watched the rise and fall of her chest.

"Only one side is rising properly, I think her lung is punctured. The air going in is getting trapped, and will make it harder for you to breathe for her; we need to let it out – and quickly or her heart will stop again," she said with concern.

"What can we do?" April asked.

"I need to insert a tube into her chest to drain out the air as well as any fluids," Lizzie replied.

Illya took over from Napoleon, giving him a break; Solo was grateful to be able to straighten up again and stretch his aching muscles as he walked over to Lizzie.

"Can you do that?" Concern tinged the Americans voice.

"I've done it a few times under instruction, but never on my own," she replied nervously.

Napoleon put his arm around her supportively.

"How can we help?" He asked.

"I need a sharp knife and tubing of some sort."

She thought back to the times she had performed the operation in Medical trying to remember what else she needed.

"I'll need a bottle of water or something similar too. I need to make sure air doesn't go back in."

"The plane can be converted into a med-evac jet." Illya said as he continued with the resuscitation. "There is a first aid kit in the cockpit." He managed to finish between breaths.

"I'll go see what I can find." April said, urgency in her voice, as she sprinted from the tunnel over to the plane.

Mark and Penny saw her running hell bent for leather towards them.

"Blimey luv, what's the hurry? Where's everyone else?" Mark enquired, then his expression turned to worry as he realised something was wrong.

"What's happened April?"

She briefly explained what happened while climbing aboard and grabbed the first aid kit from the cockpit.

"Thank God for UNCLE," she exclaimed as she opened it.

Inside was just about everything you could need for most emergency situations including a length of flexible piping.

"I need a bottle of water." April said searching the plane cabin, trying to find something suitable, but failing.

"Mark, get these things to Lizzie, while we keep looking."

Mark took the things and bolted back the way she had come.

The two women continued trying to find a bottle or container of some sort.

"Here with this do?" Penny held out a bottle of Vodka from the liquor cabinet.

"Thanks, perfect, I think." Grinning, April took the bottle; wondering why she hadn't thought of that.

'_Not sure what Illya will think, but if it helps to save Rebecca's life I don't think he'll mind too much_,' she thought to herself while hurrying back to the others, leaving Penny with the jet.

She arrived back just as Lizzie was just about to push the tubing into an incision cut in Rebecca's side. Stopping as April came up to them, she saw the bottle of vodka and smiled.

"You need to pour about a third of it away, we need the air to escape freely. Because of the narrow opening it will help if the bottle isn't full."

She did this and then handed it to her. Lizzie put the end of the tubing into the liquid and then proceeded to push the other end into the incision. Immediately air escaped and the vodka bubbled.

The nurse let out a sigh of relief that it had gone correctly, not realising until then that she had been holding her breath.

"We need to try and keep the bottle as low as possible to help prevent the liquid from entering Becca's body."

Napoleon had taken over with the mouth to mouth, and as he blew air into Rebecca's lungs, noticed that it was easier than before as the vodka bubbled with every breath.

"We need to get her to Medical as quickly as possible." Lizzie said; trembling slightly, from her impromptu operation, as April comforted her.

Illya, who had stayed near Rebecca throughout, ran to the tunnel entrance to see how far the plane was. It was too far to be able to get her there safely.

"I will bring the jet over as close as possible, we cannot breathe for her while she is being carried and she cannot be without air for too long." He shouted back, receiving an acknowledgement in return.

He sprinted across to the plane and quickly started to power up the systems as Penny closed the door, thankful that he had left most of them 'live'.

As soon as engine power was up, he manoeuvred as close to the tunnel entrance as he dared, mindful that he would need room to swing the jet round in order to take off.

The others in the tunnel with Rebecca heard the jet approaching and Mark went to see when it was in position.

"Illya's stopped closer, we're ready to move her now." Mark said as he watched the aircraft come to a halt.

Lizzie was looking through the medical kit and found an Ambu Bag

"This will make it easier to carry her to the plane and keep her breathing," she said as she put it on Becca.

Napoleon gently picked her up and carried her to the waiting plane. Lizzie walked next to him and squeezed the Ambu Bag while April carried the Vodka bottle.

Upon reaching the jet, the door was open ready for them to enter. Boarding the plane was tricky, but once in, Napoleon laid the Rebecca down on the seats at the back of the aircraft and took over her breathing while Lizzie checked her pulse, it was weak, but still there.

Illya gently stroked a stray lock of her hair from her eyes and kissed her forehead. Seeing her lying there, not knowing if she would live or die, tore at his heart. It seemed that everyone he had truly loved had been taken from him; his family as a child, and now, possibly, his Becca.

He wiped away the tears that threatened to fall, he knew that he wasn't able to help his family all those years ago, he had eventually come to terms with that; but he could do something to help Becca, and he would do everything he could to give her the best possible chance of surviving.

"Hold on Rebecca, _zavetnyy_, we will soon have you safely in Medical. I am not going to let you leave me, do you hear that? You are staying with this Russian whether you like it or not." He choked back the tears that were welling up and felt determined he wasn't going to lose someone else he loved, not this time.

April put the bottle on the floor and tied it to one of the seat legs to stop it from moving during the flight. They also managed to strap her onto the seats to keep her safe during the flight. Lizzie sat in the seat opposite and continued to squeeze the Ambu Bag.

The Russian went back to the cockpit, followed by his partner. Once settled in Napoleon looked over to him as he was turning the jet round to get into a position to take off.

"How are we going to get Becca to Medical? There's the chopper at Shannon, we could land on the top of HQ with that, assuming it's flyable."

"No, this jet is faster. We will go direct to UNCLE's London airport and then use a helicopter to fly from there to headquarters. It will still be quicker than flying all the way in one, even allowing for the extra distance and the transfer."

Solo nodded, his logic was sound, the jet could fly twice as fast as the heli and it would be about ten minutes from the airport to HQ.

It took them forty minutes to fly to the airport. Thankfully, the trip was uneventful, and they all took turns helping Rebecca breath with the Ambu Bag. Lizzie kept a check on her pulse, and made sure that the tube was still in place and was working, the Vodka in the bottle was starting to look a bit pink, which was a bit worrying, but not unexpected.

When they pulled up outside the hangar, medical transport was ready and waiting. During the flight, Napoleon had contacted both headquarters in New York and London to advise them of the situation, requesting a helicopter to take them to London and to warn Medical about Rebecca.

They transferred her onto the chopper's stretcher and then carried her over from the jet, ducking to avoid the spinning rotor blades.

Illya carried the vodka bottle while Lizzie continued with the Ambu Bag. There was only room for two additional passengers as there were three crew members already in there, the pilot, co-pilot and the Doctor.

The Russian climbed in and sat near Becca, holding her hand.

"Lizzie, go with them, you're medically trained and would be of more help, if it was needed, than any of us." Napoleon said, he motioned to a black car parked not far away, "We'll drive over and meet you there."

"Okay, I'll go with them. Please drive carefully," she replied.

He gave her a quick hug and kiss, "I'll do my best."

The others stood clear and watched the helicopter take off and head towards headquarters where Medical was waiting for their arrival.

Napoleon sighed, "If we ever needed a miracle, we certainly need it now."

He couldn't begin to imagine how Illya would be if she didn't make it. If it came to it, he didn't know how he would be either, so he tried to be his usual positive self, though this time he was finding it hard.

"Do you think she'll pull through? She's in a bad way." April asked.

"I hope so. For Illya's sake, I really do hope so; she'll be in the best place possible now anyway."

"I'm surprised he managed to get her heart going again, blimey, I don't think I could have done that," Mark said quietly.

Solo knew how much doing that had hurt his partner, he could see the dilemma in his eyes; knowing by doing what he intended, he would more than likely make her injuries worse.

The drive to headquarters, in spite of London traffic was completed in record time, with them witnessing the medi-vac chopper just taking off again from the heliport on top of the building. They drove to the underground car park, taking the first space they found.

They proceeded to the agents entrance in the corner of the car park; it looked like an ordinary elevator that was out of order, but on pressing the call buttons in the correct sequence, the doors opened. Once inside, they were identified before taken up a level where they exited into the reception area.

They were greeted by Mary and Stephanie, currently manning the desk. Napoleon approached first and leaned over as Mary pinned his badge to his lapel.

"Thank you, Mary," he smiled.

"I'm sorry to hear about Rebecca, she's a good friend, we've all missed her since she transferred to New York."

"Yes, it's a shame she's here under these circumstances." Stephanie added, as she handed Mark and April their badges.

"Thanks, it's good to know she's so well liked." Lizzie said as she received her badge.

"Tell Illya we're thinking about them both." Mary finished, as she watched them leave the area, stepping into the grey corridor beyond.

"Yes, I'll let him know, thank you." Solo replied as he left, the door sliding shut behind him.

They hurried their way to the elevator, eager to hear how Rebecca was doing.

Mark repeatedly pressed the call button, impatient for the slowly arriving lift.

"I think we could go up the stars quicker than waiting for this damn thing," he said frustratedly.

"It's here," April said, as they heard the chime to signify it's arrival.

"I'm sure it was quicker when I used to be here, "Mark grumbled as they stepped inside.

"You know what they say, a watched kettle never boils, maybe it's the same when you need an elevator in a hurry." Napoleon quipped, trying to bring a little humor, but not really feeling it himself.

It seemed to take ages for them to reach Medical, all the while feeling more and more apprehensive of what they would find out about Becca's condition when they arrived.

When the doors opened at their destination, they quickly stepped out and went to find someone who could inform them of her situation, instead they were directed to the waiting room.

Illya and Lizzie were already in there. The duty nurse was watching him, but he was oblivious to her gaze, as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, holding his head in his hands, as he waited for news from surgery.

Napoleon went over to him, giving his friend's shoulder a squeeze, showing him his support; the pain evident in the Russian's eyes.

He finally released his grip, and sitting next to Lizzie; he gave her a kiss as he took her in his arms.

"I've tried to comfort him, but he just shrugs me off," she whispered to him.

He wasn't surprised; there were very few people Illya would allow near him at times like these.

"I'll try and talk to him," he replied, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

He sat next to his partner and again put a hand on his shoulder.

"_Tovarisch,_ talk to me. What have they said?"

Illya sighed, "They have not said anything yet. She was taken into surgery straight away and we were told someone would be out when they knew more."

April put her hand on his arm, silently offering him some of her strength. "She's made it this far, she'll pull through, you need to be strong for her."

"Mate, she's in the best place now, they'll do all they can," Mark offered.

It was at times like these that the Russian was glad he had let these people into his life.

Just then a white coated doctor came over to them.

"Mr. Kuryakin, if I could speak with you please," he started to guide him away, so he could talk to him in private.

Illya stood still. "No, they are my friends and they also need to know."

The doctor relented and addressed the entire group.

"I'm sorry, but it's not good news. Miss Andrews has severe internal injuries. How you have managed to keep her alive so far is beyond me."

He looked round the group. "Is one of you medically trained?"

"Yes, I am a nurse in New York HQ," Lizzie confirmed.

"I understand that you put the drain in, that was very good thinking and almost certainly helped her to survive for so long."

The doctor smiled, "And the bottle of Vodka helped too. I would like to commend you on your actions in a difficult situation and will be informing Mr. Waverly personally."

He looked back to the Russian, "She is not out the woods yet though, and with the severity of her injuries, we just don't know if her body has the strength to recover and heal.

"In all my years as a doctor, I have never come across anything like this, by all rights, she should not be alive at all.

"I would suggest that you all get something to eat and rest, Miss Andrews will be in surgery for a long time." The doctor left them be.

Illya sat down, again with his head in his hands, as he felt helpless, a feeling he hated. He was torn; he wanted to stay, to be there when Rebecca woke up; but a part of him also wanted to do something, to release the anger and frustration that had built up within him.

Thinking about what the doctor had told them, something he said made him realise that even if she did come out of the operating room alive, she wouldn't be conscious for a long time '_we just don't know if her body has the strength to recover and heal_'. He decided at that moment what he was going to do.

He glanced to his partner and Napoleon saw the look in his partner's eyes, knowing what was going to come next and it wasn't the prescribed food or rest.

"Napoleon, I want to go back and finish what we started."


	10. Chapter 10

Napoleon understood his partners need to do something, he felt the same way. Destroying the facility completely, now they had access to the equipment needed, would help them both. He looked to Lizzie, "Will you stay for Rebecca?"

"Yes, of course. I can help look after her when she comes out from the operating theatre."

Penny offered to stay as well with Lizzie and Rebecca.

Illya, Napoleon, Mark and April took the car they arrived in, heading back to the jet, quickly dealing with the ground checks before boarding. Within minutes they were in the air and heading back to Shannon.

Arriving there, they went to find Cormac and see if the helicopter was flyable.

He'd heard the jet arrive and came out to greet them.

"Word is that you had to go straight to London, I'm sorry to hear that your friend got hurt," Cormac said sympathetically, "I hope she'll be okay."

Illya let Napoleon do the talking, not in the mood to have to say anything.

"Yes, thank you. I presume the prisoner has been taken back to London already?"

"Yeah, we had no problem with him."

"Cormac, is the chopper flyable?" Mark asked.

"It was just serviced and is ready for action. All fueled up too."

"We need to get back to Kileagy and finish what was started."

"I'll go and get the tow truck for it," Cormac replied as he disappeared out the door.

Once the truck had been unhitched and the aircraft checked over, the four agents climbed in and took off, Illya piloting it. Within ten minutes they landed outside the fledgling base after circling around to check for any resistance.

They left the chopper and made their way into the tunnel; passing by the blood stained area where Rebecca had been only hours before.

Trying not to dwell on what had happened to her, they hurried past and down to the cavern. It was harder going this time because of the debris in the tunnel from the earlier explosion.

As they neared the main cavern, there was a rock fall creating another barrier, and after crawling over it, Illya signaled the others to stop and keep quiet. He saw light and thought he heard something up ahead; his partner quietly crept to his side.

"What's the problem, tovarisch?" He whispered.

"I heard voices ahead and it looks like they have power again," the Russian whispered back. They both lay still, straining their ears to listen.

"Yup, I can hear voices now," Napoleon said.

The partners both reached for their specials, edging forward until they could see into the cavern.

The aftermath of the earlier explosion was visible, but disappointingly, the cavern itself was largely intact.

"It must be substantially reinforced, not to have suffered more damage." Napoleon said.

"Mmm, more than I estimated anyway."

There were signs of any collapse in only a few places with the rock fall they were currently laying on being one of them.

The American silently pointed out a small generator in the cavern that was powering some temporary lighting. "That didn't take them long, and I spy little birdies over there."

There were three men standing in a group and seemed to be coordinating the clean up with four unfamiliar men joining them; how they escaped the explosion relatively unscathed was unknown.

Napoleon and Illya could only assume they had taken refuge in the maze of tunnels.

Staying and observing for a while to see if there were any more, they were about to contact the others on their communicator and apprise them of the situation, when two figures walked into the cavern.

"Well, just look who the cat's dragged in," Napoleon whispered, as one of the two, was none other than Paul Vicary himself.

"Cat?" Illya asked confused, wondering why a cat would be dragging a person, or if it was even possible.

"Never mind."

They contacted the rest of their small group via their communicator, telling them to join them now and informed them of their findings.

"Just to let you know, so it's not a shock, April, but Paul's down here," Napoleon said.

Concerned, Mark looked to his partner, but she showed no emotion as they crawled over the rock fall to join Illya and Napoleon.

"So what's the plan then fella's?" She asked.

"We're outnumbered, there's at least nine of them.

"It has never stopped us before, has it not? I feel up for a fight," Illya commented.

"I can believe it, partner mine. The only good thing is they don't know we're here."

"We can to use this to our advantage then, mates," Mark added.

"Do you think there'll be more down there?" April asked.

"I would at least hope not, since the base is still being set up, though more reinforcements could be on their way," the Russian answered.

"We've got to get this done as quickly as possible, we should be able to dart a few before they know what's hit them, as long as we fire at the same time."

"Four against five, that'll even the odds a bit, mates." Mark grinned.

All four agents silently and carefully crawled to the top of the rock fall; each giving hand signals as to whom they were aiming for. Just as they prepared to fire simultaneously, with Napoleon about to give the signal; he dislodged some of the rocks.

The people below looked up towards the noise and started to draw their guns.

"There's someone there." One pointed to the noise.

"UNCLE again I bet, don't let them get away," said another.

Cursing his clumsiness Napoleon fired quickly and managed to dart one of them in the shoulder. The man spun around colliding with one of the others as he fell to the floor clutching his shoulder.

Mark fired, darting another one.

Illya yelled, "Cover me," as he rolled down the rocks into the cavern, landing on his feet firing and dodging the return shots.

"Illya, on your left," Napoleon called out.

Kuryakin hit another THRUSH in the leg, but as he went down the man managed to hit the Russian in the arm.

Mark and his partner came down next, closely followed by Napoleon.

"Leave Paul to me, he's mine; I owe him one." April growled through clenched teeth.

They gave her no argument as they advanced farther into the cavern, dodging bullets and returning fire.

The first THRUSH that was hit in the shoulder was up again; he was a huge character, more like a slab of muscle, than a man. Staggering from the effects of the first dart, he went for Mark, but his aim was off and it hit the wall. Mark returned fire and he was finally taken care of with a shot in the thigh, and he fell unconscious to the ground.

"Blimey, how much sleeping drug did he need?" Mark said bewildered; as one was usually enough, but this guy was so monstrous and muscular he'd needed extra.

Napoleon was grappling with one of the guards; the goon kicking Solo's legs out from under him, knocking him face down. He was about to shoot Solo in the back when the American rolled over and managed to dart him, and he collapsed to the floor unconscious.

There were now three left. April had used up her darts, and after replacing them with a clip of live ammo, she approached Vicary; her gun aimed at his chest.

"I owe you one Paul, I only wish I had seen through you earlier."

"It was good while it lasted though, don't you think?"

"For you maybe. I don't know how you managed to keep your true identity a secret from us; though you must have been with THRUSH for a while for you to be put in charge of creating this base."

"Yeah, well we took a risk there. It's all down to a new drug that would suppress everything that would have given me away, and you see, Paul isn't my real name; that's why nothing showed up in my background checks. Didn't you ever wonder why I was on 'medication'?

"My assignment, and the reason for being with you, was to get close enough to find a way of eliminating one of Central's greatest threats, Solo and Kuryakin. Those two have caused us trouble too many times."

"So when you found out about their vacation…"

"It was too good an opportunity to miss; especially when I realised they would have to land at Shannon to refuel, and we could get an operative in place to dart them quite easily."

"So, the only thing you didn't bank on, was Rebecca being able to fly the jet."

"Yeah, that was one thing we didn't plan for; we thought that with Solo and Kuryakin out cold, the plane would crash. If the rest of you died, all the better."

Paul moved closer to April as he spoke planning to make a grab for her weapon, but she anticipated his move and shot him in the leg.

"We're going to destroy this place. So, if I were you, you and what remains of your group should get out while you still can." she said, making him a generous offer, and one he didn't deserve.

"Our reinforcements are on their way and will be more than willing to take you all back to UNCLE headquarters." She smiled with satisfaction.

April started to walked away, but after a few paces she stopped and turned round to face him one last time.

"Goodbye Paul, in a way I hope you escape, because what THRUSH will do to you would be far worse than anything we would do."

The others had dispatched the two remaining goons with darts while April had been talking to Paul.

Illya was favouring his left arm and Napoleon was trying to get the Russian to let him examine the wound.

"I am fine Napoleon, just leave it."

"Your 'fine' is not the same as my 'fine,'my friend."

"The bullet has passed through and I will be fine." Illya kept pressure on the wound, fixing his eyes with an icy stare at his partner. "We need to destroy this place."

"Yes we do, but I don't need my partner passing out due to loss of blood. Now, let- me- look."

Knowing Napoleon would not let it rest, Illya finally allowed the examination and let him bind the wound.

"Now that wasn't hard was it?"

The Russian grumbled something under his breath before continuing. "I need to set the explosives, the sooner we finish, the sooner I can get back to Becca."

He instructed the others where to place the explosives to cause the most damage.

"The tunnels need to be sealed, it should be easy enough as they are not reinforced, the cavern is a different story," he said, "I need a drill of some sort."

"Okay, partner mine, let's go hunting," Solo replied.

"Yeah, I'm sure we'll be able to find something suitable here, mate," Mark added.

They searched down the tunnels and found some construction tools, among them was a power drill.

Illya connected the drill to the generator, and climbing atop some scaffolding that was still in place, he proceeded to make a series of holes around the ceiling. Napoleon and Mark climbed up after him, filling the holes with the explosives.

April attached fuses to each packed hole and linked them together like a chain.

Once the first one detonated the rest would follow suit and continue travelling along the ceiling, bringing the whole lot down.

"We need to do the tunnels now, I suggest we each take a tunnel and set the charges as I have shown you," Illya told the others.

"Right oh, mate, I'll take this one then." Mark said pointing to the tunnel on the right, making his way down it.

Lastly explosives were placed around the generator and the already damaged computers ensuring they would all be completely destroyed.

"You all need to leave now. I will set the remote detonators and join you shortly," Illya said.

"Just make sure you do, tovarisch," Napoleon replied.

While they had been working inside, their backup had arrived, removing the unconscious bodies of the Thrush agents and the guards. By now it was dark and using powerful spotlights; they gathered Vicary and his associates into their larger helicopters.

Napoleon, Mark and April emerged from the tunnel and climbed into their own helo, starting it up and waiting for the Russian to join them.

"There he is, c'mon Illya." April called over the noise of the whirling blades and the engine.

As soon as he was in he spoke to Mark. "Get this in the air."

The Brit gave no argument and did as he was told, taking off and hovering at a safe distance from the mine to watch the results of their handiwork.

Illya looked down at the remote unit he held in his hands and caressed it gently while his partner looked at him, giving his right arm a squeeze in support.

Illya smiled slightly. "This is for you, Rebecca." He pressed the button with deliberation.

A loud boom was heard for miles around, followed by a cloud of dust and debris billowing into the air.

Mark kept the chopper steady as the shockwave buffeted it. When the dust settled a new landscape appeared, what had been a rocky outcropping was now a crater as the cavern had collapsed, destroying everything that had been inside.

Satisfied the job was done; they flew back to Shannon to retrieve the jet and return to London.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11:_

The return to London went far slower than Illya wanted it to, he was just too impatient to get back to Rebecca. Not knowing if she was alive or not, tore at his heart; he never knew he could feel as deeply about someone as this and wasn't sure how to handle the strong emotions running through him.

Once they arrived in London HQ, they immediately made their way to Medical. On entering the waiting room, they saw Lizzie and Penny sat together; the worry and concern was showing on their faces.

"Any news on Becca?" Illya asked, the anguish evident in his voice.

"She's still in the operating theatre," Penny replied quietly.

"Blimey, that's over four hours now," Mark exclaimed.

"Erm, we had an update about half an hour ago." Lizzie started nervously, glancing towards Napoleon for support, not sure how much to tell the Russian about Becca's condition, Solo put his arm around her offering his strength and comfort. "It's taking so long because she's so weak."

Taking the Russian's hands in hers, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself, and blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, continued.

"Illya, her heart's stopped three times. It was harder to restart after the last time, and they don't think she will have the strength to survive if it fails again. The doctor said it'll be at least another hour before they're finished, if nothing else happens, and that was half an hour ago."

Illya hung his head at this news, feeling like someone had just ripped his own heart out. He had finally found someone he wanted to share his life with; now it looked like she would be taken away from him.

Napoleon sat by his side, placing a hand on the Russians arm.

"Tovarisch, she's strong, I really think she'll come through this."

"I hope you are right, Napoleon," he replied, "I hope you are right."

"I know I am, I'm the optimist, and just maybe some of the 'Solo luck' has rubbed off on her."

This brought a slight smile to Illya's lips.

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen."

Harry Beldon walked into the room. Dressed flamboyantly in a long dress coat, garishly patterned waistcoat and fur hat, his presence filled the room.

He had just returned to HQ from a meeting and went directly to Medical for an update on Rebecca's condition. He had grown quite fond of the agent during her time at London and had been disappointed to lose her to New York.

"I understand Miss Andrews is still undergoing surgery. I also know that you four...," he looked towards Napoleon, Illya, April and Mark, "... have not yet made yourselves available for your required post assignment checkups. Please do so now."

He looked at his watch and glanced at each agent as they sat there unmoving, blatantly defying him.

"You have exactly two minutes to follow my orders or I will be calling security to escort you all there, kicking and screaming if they have to. Am I understood?"

"Sir, we have not been on assignment, and, apart from Illya, we are uninjured, I do not see why we need checkups."

Napoleon knew he was speaking out of order, but he was so tired and wound up with worry, that right now, he didn't care.

"As I know you are stressed, tired and very concerned for your friend, I will overlook that outburst Mr. Solo. But I will not accept a refusal to obey a direct order."

"Mr. Beldon, we're fine and haven't been exposed to anything. Please, can we be let off this time?" Mark asked, spurred by Solo's stubbornness.

In response Harry pulled his communicator from a pocket with a flourish.

"Security, please."

"Security here, sir."

"I want Jones and Roberts to report to Medical now, we have a situation here that needs dealing with."

"They will be there shortly."

"Err, we will go, please call the guard dogs off, sir." Napoleon relented.

Beldon smiled to himself, "It seems the issue has been resolved, you can tell them to stand down Saunders."

"Yes, Sir. Saunders out."

"Good, I knew you would see it my way, eventually."

Satisfied that they would do as they were told, he left. He was more than ready to change into more comfortable clothing and make full use of his personal steam room in his office.

Napoleon watched as April and Mark made their way to an examination room and then turned to his partner who hadn't moved.

"Illya, you too." He said sternly.

"I am fine, you dealt with the wounds, they are fine," he groused.

"It isn't a request, it's an order. Go. Now."

"I hate it when you pull rank."

"Being CEA does have its privileges," Solo grinned.

"From what I understand you are under orders also, are you not?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"In that case, I will go only if you do."

Napoleon sighed, "I doubt we will get away without going anyway, he's probably sat in his office watching us on the security cameras."

"Yes, Mr Solo, you're quite correct, do I need to contact security?" Beldon's voice crackled over a speaker.

"Come on, partner. Let's get this over with."

Napoleon followed the grumbling Russian down the corridor to an examination room, ensuring that his injury was checked over; knowing that Illya, like most Section 2 agents, hated going to medical, and the CEA included himself on that list.

The first bullet wound was just a graze, and the second had passed through; exactly as the Russian had said.

They were properly cleaned with new bandages applied and grudgingly, Illya admitted they felt better. After his treatments were completed, he and Napoleon made their way back to the waiting room, hoping there would soon be news on Rebecca's condition.

"What's the time? I'm beat," April yawned.

"Nearly one, and the boss wants to see us." Mark replied, trying not to let his own fatigue show.

"Don't they ever go home?" April complained.

"Not that I know of," Solo grinned.

The journey to the chiefs office took them along several corridors and up three levels in the elevator. The final corridor leading to Beldon's office contained hidden security monitors which scanned for unauthorised weapons and for the correct level of clearance on anyone approaching.

Within ten minutes they were standing in his office. Harry, dressed in a luxurious dressing gown, reclined in his chaise longue, glass of expensive brandy in one hand.

"I know you're concerned about Miss Andrews and want to stay nearby so I've assigned you guest accommodation here, I hope you don't mind sharing, as you know, our facilities are limited."

"No, not at all, thank you. I think I can speak for everyone in that we'll just be glad of a bed," Napoleon replied.

"The commissary is closed now, so there is no hot food, I'm afraid; but there should be some sandwiches and such in the kitchen, please help yourself and get some rest."

"Thank you, sir," April said gratefully.

"If you do not mind, I would like to return to Medical?" Illya asked.

"Mr. Kuryakin, I know what you're like, but you'll do as you are told and get some rest, you're exhausted. Anyway, Miss. Andrews will be unconscious for a long time when she returns from surgery. "

"Yes, sir," he agreed reluctantly.

They retired to their allocated rooms after first finding something to eat.

Napoleon and Lizzie found a room for themselves, April and Penny stayed together in another, while Mark and Illya shared the remaining guest quarters.

The Russian flopped down on a bed and stared up at the ceiling; thinking about the events of the day, unable to rid himself of the memory of holding Becca as her heart stopped beating while she lay him his arms.

He was still lying there on his back several minutes later, when there was a knock on the door.

Mark, seeing Illya not moving, got up to answer it and let Napoleon in.

Solo looked to his friend, as he lay there lost in his thoughts, and sat down on the bed next to him.

"Have you eaten?"

"No, I am not hungry." Illya replied as he continued to stare at the ceiling.

"That's not like you, you really are out of sorts, but you need to eat something, my friend. Here, try this." Solo offered him some of the food brought back from the kitchen.

"I said I am not hungry."

"Tovarisch, I know you're hurting, but you'll be no good for Rebecca if you make yourself ill by not looking after yourself."

Illya sighed. "I know, Napoleon. It is the uncertainty. She has not even come out of surgery yet, even at our worst, we have not been this long."

"We'll go see her first thing in the morning. The medical staff will be busy looking after her when she comes out from surgery and you'd only get in the way. By the morning things should be calmer."

"I suppose you are right. I will eat something. Good night Napoleon."

"Good night." He stood up and made his way to the door, saying goodnight to Mark on the way.

"Napoleon?" Illya called quietly, turning onto his side and facing Solo.

The American turned back, his hand on the door handle. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being there for me, as always."

"You are most welcome. Eat and then get some sleep," he replied shutting the door behind him.

Illya ate the offered food and realised how hungry he'd been. When finished, he lay back down in bed, bid goodnight to Mark, and was asleep within seconds.

Mark shook his head, the Russian was the only person he knew that could nod off instantly.

It was 8:00 a.m. when Illya woke finding Mark was still fast off. He showered, shaved and dressed quietly so as to not wake the sleeping Brit.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, Illya left the room; heeding Napoleons comment from the night before, he made his way to the commissary, grabbing something to eat before heading to Medical.

As he approached, the doctor called him over. "Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Hello Doctor, how is Rebecca?"

"She's in a critical but stable condition at the moment. She's in a coma and on a ventilator. Her ribs were broken in several places, one puncturing her lung, as you know."

Illya nodded, a lump in his throat preventing him from speaking, and allowing the doctor to continue.

"We've done our best to stabilise her ribs and realign them. They will heal, but it's going to take some time. I'm sorry, but I don't know if she will recover and to be honest, with what she's been through, I've no idea how she's survived so far. "

"She is stubborn and strong willed, maybe that has something to do with it," Illya replied. '_the Solo luck has hopefully had a hand in it too_,' he thought, and wished it were true, so it would continue for her.

"Obstinance seems to be a trait most of you section two's have," the doctor said as he lead Illya down the hall. "This is Miss Andrews' room. I must warn you that it may be distressing to see all the life support equipment around her."

"Thank you for the warning, Doctor. I have seen the equipment on my partner several times and it has been used on me on occasion as well. I will be fine."

The doctor shook his head and opened the door, leaving the Russian and returning to his office.

Illya stepped inside and froze. Although he knew what to expect, it still came as a shock to see all the tubes, pipes and machinery around his Rebecca, the sight made his heart ache.

She was almost a pale as the sheets she was lying on; numerous IV drips running into her arms, a proper chest drain had replaced the temporary one, a feeding tube running into her stomach, the ventilator making a steady rhythmic 'whoosh' and monitors measuring her heart rate, blood pressure and other vitals.

He slowly walked over, taking her hand in his, he held it and gently kissed her on the forehead.

"Hello _zavetnyy_. I am here now." he whispered, before settling in the chair next to her bed.

Illya was watching the monitors around her and trying to make some sense of the information they were displaying.

The Russian thought of all the times he had stayed in a room like this waiting for Napoleon to come round; though, more often than not, it was the other way round, and for the last year and a half Rebecca had been there as well.

He too had sat vigil for Rebecca, after she had returned from assignments, though it had never been as bad as this, and this time it wasn't even in the line of duty, but while on a holiday.

There was a knock on the door and his fellow agents appeared.

"How is she Illya?" April came over and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

"Not good, she is in a coma. The doctor does not know if she has the strength to recover."

"_Tovarisch_, you know Rebecca, if anyone can survive, she will. "Napoleon replied.

Putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, he tried to believe in his own words for Illya's sake, but after talking with Lizzie and seeing Becca lying there with all the tubes and machines, he knew it was going to be difficult to be optimistic this time.

They had been there for over an hour, when the doctor came in and suggested it was time they go.

"I'll let you know if anything changes. A bit of fresh air will do you all good."

Illya refused to leave, he wanted to be there for when something did happen.

"We're going to follow the doctor's advice and see what it's like to be a tourist in London, do you want anything Illya? Books, journals… food?" April asked.

The Russian smiled at the last suggestion.

"I would like something to eat that has some flavor, as you said, Napoleon, I will be no good to Becca, if I do not look after myself."

"Hallelujah," Napoleon whispered; glad to see his friend had found his appetite again.

"Okay, we'll see what we can do, partner mine."

Illya sat back in the chair holding onto her limp hand and listened to the sounds in the room; the noise of the ventilator, and the steady beeping of the heart monitor, and as he listened to their rhythm, they eventually lulled him to sleep.

Later on, the doctor came in, checking Becca's vitals, sensing someone else in the room, Illya woke instantely, shifting slightly and watching silently.

"Sorry if I disturbed you Mr. Kuryakin."

"No, you did not. How is she?"

"No change, I'm afraid; which, in a way, is good. Erm, Miss Andrews has another visitor, she just arrived."

"Oh, who?" Illya felt concerned, not knowing who else would want to visit Becca.

"It's Miss Andrews' Mother."

Illya immediately stood up, gently replacing Rebecca's hand on the bed, and went to the door; a middle-aged woman was standing outside, and he could see the resemblance between mother and daughter quite easily.

"Mrs. Andrews? Forgive me, please come in."

"Thank you, Mr. Kuryakin, and please, call me Emily. I didn't want to just walk in on you, I knew you wouldn't know me and I didn't want to cause you any undue worry."

"Thank you, but you are just as entitled to see her, more so than I am, and call me Illya. Becca has told me about you. I believe your husband was a field agent too?"

The Russian pulled a second chair over and motioned Emily to be seated.

"Yes, he was, he died on an assignment when Becca was a teenager, I didn't want her to follow in Elijah's footsteps, but she was very stubborn, even back then."

"Yes, I have found she can be at times," he smiled before continuing, "Did you know that my name is the Russian form of the name Elijah?" He smiled at her.

"No wonder she thinks so much of you then, she idolised her Dad. She's told me much about you; you've made her very happy, and I can see you love her very much."

"Da, I do, she means a lot to me."

They sat for a while watching over Becca together, Emily holding her daughters hand, every now and then rubbing and squeezing it a little bit. Finally Emily stood, sensing it was time to leave Illya and her daughter alone.

"Look after her; Rebecca and her brother Phillip are all I have left now." She embraced the Russian briefly. "I'm glad to have finally met you."

"And I you. I promise I will look after her to the best of my abilities. And when we are back in New York, you must come visit us." Illya replied, refusing to believe in the possibility of returning without her.

"Thank you Illya." She smiled and squeezed the Russian's hand as she left.

Later in the evening, Illya was woken again, this time by his partner.

"You really need to practice entering a room more quietly you know." The Russian whispered.

"Well, not everyone can be as perfect as you," Solo grinned, "I've come bearing gifts."

Napoleon held up several paper sacks of take away that smelled very enticing.

"The others went to get some plates and cutlery and will be here shortly. Any change in Becca's condition?" Napoleon asked.

"No, but she is stable, so that is good. I met Rebecca's mother earlier."

"What was she like?"

"A strong woman, and I think Becca is very much like her, that includes a very strong family resemblance. I liked her and she seemed to like me. Apparently, she's heard a lot about me."

"Oh dear." Solo grinned.

"All good I think," Illya answered, a half smile reaching his lips. "You will notice I am still standing."

"Yes, but is that because she tanned your hide and you can't sit down?"

The Russian rolled his eyes and threw him an exasperated look.

Their banter was interrupted with the arrival of the others. The Chinese takeaway containers were opened and spread out on a nearby side table, everyone doling out their own portions.

Chicken Chow Mein, and Sweet and Sour Pork, amongst others, were accompanied with sesame prawn toast, spare ribs in syrup and fried rice. The sight made Illya realize how hungry he was.

"This smells good, thank you. It is much better than the stuff the commissary calls food," and he proceeded to tuck in along with the others.

When they had finished, they helped clean up, and saying their goodnights, retired to their rooms, leaving Illya there and working on a second helping. When his appetite was satisfied he made himself as comfortable as possible in the chair next to Rebecca's bed.

The next few days repeated the same pattern with Illya staying by Rebecca while everyone else took the rare opportunity to explore London with Mark leading the way. Emily would call in and stay for a while and sometimes shared the takeaways the others brought throughout the day.

The Russian spent the days reading to her, even if it was from the science journals Napoleon had bought. Sometimes singing to her, when he thought no one would be listening, other times he just sat holding her hand or stroking her hair.

By the middle of the week, they had to think about returning back to New York on Friday, as their vacation days were just about over.

Illya had been thinking about the return a lot and had spoken about it with Emily, she had listened to him and had given her blessing to his plans, and he informed his partner of them as well.

"Napoleon, I want to take Rebecca back with us."

Napoleon looked at him, seeing his determination.

"Have you talked this over with Dr. Parker? Won't it be risky taking her on such a long flight in her condition?"

The Russian looked down at the floor avoiding his friends eyes.

"I have mentioned it to him; he is against it."

"Then it's probably safest for her to stay. She'll be cared for here just as well as if she was in New York. What about her Mother, what does she say?"

"I have discussed it with Emily, she is happy for her to return and has signed an authorization to allow it. I want her back with us, Napoleon. I cannot be there for her if she is here, and I would rather have our own doctors look after her, they know her. She will be better back with us." The Russian was adamant.

"I don't know, _tovarisch_, will she last the flight? Seven hours is a long time and she's going to need all that medical equipment travelling with her. It's a lot to ask."

"The jet can be converted to a medivac plane, to support her."

Napoleon could see that he was in a losing battle, and knew that Illya wouldn't back down.

"I'll have to speak with The Old Man first, if he agrees to authorize the transfer, Dr. Parker will have to abide by his ruling. But Illya, Mr. Waverly will have the final word on this. If he refuses, that's the end of it. Understood?"

Reluctantly the Russian agreed.

Napoleon contacted Mr. Waverly and discussed Illya's request with him. It took some persuading before The Old Man agreed – but with some conditions: Rebecca had to be stable enough to be moved; a doctor had to accompany them; Lizzie was to help with Rebecca's care during the flight and Dr Parker had to check the equipment used by the plane in its medivac role was suitable for supporting Rebecca. If any one of the conditions couldn't be met, they had to come back on their own.

"They're the conditions, Illya, if any of them can't be met, then she has to stay here."

"I understand, Rebecca's health has to come first and I of course understand the need for caution."

They went to find Dr. Parker and discussed the transfer with him.

"I'm not happy about moving Miss Andrews, but the precautions Mr. Waverly had put in place are sensible. I'll look over the jet in the morning and will accompany you to New York myself."

"Thank you Doctor, I appreciate what you are doing for her," the Russian replied.

The following morning Dr. Parker gave his approval for the jet, as the needed medical equipment was brought out of storage at the UNCLE London airport for assessment.

"I haven't seen a better appointed aircraft than this; it should be more than capable of supporting her." The doctor commented as he looked around the plane.

"It is the newest version and very well equipped." Illya agreed.

With the doctor satisfied with the preparations; they returned back to Medical to ready Rebecca for the move. The doctor called his staff into his office, advising them of the preparations needed.

Illya continued to spend most of the time with Rebecca, reading, singing and talking to her.

On Thursday afternoon April and Napoleon stopped by and tried to get the Russian to join them for dinner in London.

"It will do you good, _tovarisch_, to get out into the fresh air and get a proper meal into you. Even you can't survive on take-aways and we've arranged to meet Emily there too."

"If you can call London air 'fresh'. I think the air in here is probably cleaner." He finally relented, admitting he could do with a good dinner. "I am starving. Plus I do not want Emily told any tall stories about me."

"Good, darling, I knew you would see sense in the end." April remarked as she put her arm through Illya's, dragging him through the door alongside her.

They all spent the last evening in London together, but even after a good meal and night of comradeship, Illya insisted upon being allowed to return to his chair in Rebecca's room.

When he arrived back in medical, he saw she had been connected to equipment for the return flight on the jet. He was glad Napoleon had made him go out; it had done him good, and he was relieved he didn't have to see her being transferred to the new life support system.

He gently stroked her hair and kissed her forehead before making himself as comfortable as possible in the chair, while he leaned in, holding her hand.

He whispered softly to her, hoping she heard his voice.

"I love you Rebecca, and will not let you go, I believe we have luck on our side. Sleep well _moya lyubov_, we are going home tomorrow."

He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the equipment that was keeping her alive; it's methodical rhythm again lulling him to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12:_

Illya woke next morning with cramped muscles from sleeping in the chair and he slowly stretched and massaged his limbs to try and help relieve the tightness. Looking over to Rebecca, checking her readings on the monitor as well as her chart, he saw there had been no change in her condition overnight.

"I wish you were awake, but I will take comfort in that you are no worse," he whispered, kissing her gently on the cheek.

He looked at himself in a mirror that hung on the wall, noting his disheveled condition.

"I need to change and freshen up, Becca, and I am starving." He imagined he could hear her laughing at the last comment, "I will be back soon."

He passed April on the way to the commissary, "Hungry again Illya?"

"Of course, you know me," he grinned.

"How's Rebecca today, she ready for the flight?"

"Yes, she has been prepared for the transfer, and there has been no change. As long as she is stable, that will be good for the trip. I will see you later." He ducked through the commissary door, first making a strong cup of tea for himself and deciding on a 'Full English Fry-up' for breakfast.

Once his appetite had been satisfied, he returned to Becca's room, finding Dr. Parker there supervising his staff. The medical equipment had been disconnected from the main power supply, and was now running on batteries; once they arrived, it would all be connected to the aircraft's power supply.

The physician looked up, seeing Illya standing to the side out of the way. Napoleon walked in the door behind him, remaining to the side as well.

"Right, Mr. Kuryakin, I believe you are accompanying us in the helicopter to the airport."

"Yes, doctor, both myself and Lizzie... er, Miss Johnson are coming with you."

"Okay, we'll be leaving in 15 minutes," Dr. Parker replied.

"We'll follow by car and meet you at the airport, Illya," Napoleon added.

"Da, we will see you there." The Russian replied.

Napoleon left first with April, Mark and Penny. Weaving their way through the late morning traffic, they encountered no major hold ups and arrived at the airport within thirty minutes, arriving not long after the helicopter.

Illya and Lizzie's journey by helicopter was quick and problem free. They landed close to the UNCLE jet and easily transferred Rebecca over to the waiting plane; the seats on one side having been removed to make way for the gurney as well as the equipment.

"Napoleon's here." Lizzie called, as she brought the last of their things across from the helicopter.

"Good, we are about ready to leave," Illya replied as he finished checking that everything was secure.

"Everything looks good Mr. Kuryakin, I'm happy to leave when everyone else is aboard." Dr. Parker said.

"Thank you."

"Okay, tovarish," Napoleon said. "Marks just stowing the rest of our luggage."

Napoleon took care of the ground checks outside the jet, while Illya performed his systems check. He remembered doing them with Rebecca only days before, though it seemed a lifetime ago.

Glancing over to the empty seat next to him, a lump caught in his throat, as he wondered if his Becca would ever take the copilot's position with him again. What should have been an enjoyable vacation, quickly turned into near tragedy, and with the severity of her injuries he knew there was no guarantee she would recover.

"_Moya lyubov_, you have to fight. Please come back to me." He whispered, as in his minds eye, he saw Rebecca sat to his right, before looking away and continuing with the checks.

Napoleon joined Illya at the flight deck ten minutes later; checking everyone was settled, as he passed through the cabin to the co-pilots seat.

"Okay, I think we're all good to go, my friend. I'd better contact The Old Man." Solo said as he engaged his communicator.

"Open Channel D, overseas relay."

"Waverly here. Good to hear from you, Mr. Solo. I take it you will be leaving London shortly."

"Yes sir, we're currently waiting for clearance and will be refueling at Shannon before returning to La Guardia."

"I understand. I believe your estimated arrival time is late evening."

"Yes sir, around 7:30 your time. We'll need a helicopter to meet us, to transfer Miss Andrews to Headquarters, please sir."

"I will have Medic 1 ready for you when you arrive. Thank you for keeping me informed, Mr. Solo."

"Thank you, Sir. We will contact you again when we are approximately an hour away."

"Please do. I will await your return. Oh and gentlemen, please fly carefully."

"Yes sir, we will. Solo out. Okay, partner mine, are we ready?"

"Yes, we are. We just received clearance to proceed, it is now time to go home." The Russian replied with a sense of relief coloring his voice as he gently nosed the aircraft with its precious passenger towards the runway.

It was a smooth take off and within an hour they were refueling at Shannon. Cormac was there to greet them, having been alerted they would be stopping there briefly.

"Thank you for your help, Cormac." Napoleon said as he shook the Irishman's hand.

"You're welcome, I just wish we had met under better circumstances," he replied.

"Yes, so do we. Maybe the next time will be less eventful, although I am pleased to see you are now carrying your gun," Illya flashed him a small smile.

"Yeah, never know when you might need it. I supposed it can get a little interesting here sometimes, so better to be prepared," Cormac grinned.

"Take care of yourself." Napoleon and Illya said as they walked together, making their way back to the aircraft.

"You too," Cormac called out, as he watched them board the jet.

The aircraft was started up quickly as Illya received his instructions from the tower.

"Lear-niner-three-sixer, you are cleared for taxi."

"Roger tower, Lear-niner-three-sixer en route to runway 24."

They sat at the end of the taxiway, waiting for final clearance to be granted.

"Lear-niner-three-sixer, please hold your position and wait for an incoming aircraft."

"Roger tower, holding."

It seemed like a long two minutes as they waited for it to land and once it taxied past them they were finally cleared for takeoff.

"Roger tower, turning onto runway 24."

"Lear-niner-three-sixer, proceed to 9000 feet on heading 265. And Godspeed, niner-three-sixer."

"Thank you tower, over and out."

They were on their way home at last and knowing that, they all started to relax. After a few hours Napoleon took over the controls while Illya went to see Rebecca.

He smiled as he saw Lizzie, Penny and April fast asleep and Mark very nearly and assumed it was the rhythmic sound of the machines that had lulled them off, just as they had done to him.

Dr. Parker was reading as he sat next to Becca, seemingly oblivious to the noises.

"How is she?"

"Doing well, just as long as we keep below 12000 feet she shouldn't have any problems with the air pressure and we should be fine. It's also a perfect opportunity to see how well this jet performs in its medical role."

"That is good, I would like to thank you for accompanying us. I appreciate it."

"No problem," the doctor replied.

The Russian sat with her for just a few minutes. Though he would have liked to stay longer; he didn't want to leave Napoleon on his own for too long, and he could always come back and see her during the flight.

Roughly an hour before they were due to arrive at La Guardia, they contacted Mr. Waverly.

"We're on schedule and should be arriving within the hour, sir," Napoleon said into his communicator.

"Medic 1 is already enroute to the airport, Mr. Solo. It is large enough to accommodate you all and the equipment," Waverly replied.

"Thank you, sir. Solo out."

They landed in New York on time and taxied to the UNCLE section of the airport; stopping close to the helicopter, and enabling a quick transfer to the waiting aircraft.

Within twenty minutes of landing, they were on their way to Headquarters. By the time they arrived, they were all exhausted.

Mr. Waverly had called in his personal physician, Dr. Towers, who met them at the roof entrance and accompanied them down into Medical.

Dr. Parker appraised him of Rebeccas condition, and after that, Dr. Towers took over, supervising his staff as they moved the patient to the room that had been prepared for her.

"We'll leave her on the jet's equipment until the morning to reduce any chance of distress after the long day she's had."

"Yes, Dr. Towers," one of the nurses replied.

"I want her monitored closely for the evening. Her heart rate and blood pressure are a little high, but I think it's due to the flight."

"I will set up a rota for monitoring her through the night, Doctor," another nurse replied, as she busily attended to her patient.

He glanced over to where Illya was standing, watching the staff carefully as they followed the physician's orders.

"Okay Mr. Kuryakin, I think it might be a good idea for you to get something to eat while we tend to Miss Andrews."

"I will come back later," he answered reluctantly, heading to the commissary where the others had been waiting.

"How is she tovarisch?" His partner asked quietly.

"Her heart rate and B.P. are slightly elevated, but the doctor said that was to be expected because of the length of the flight."

"I think we should get something to eat and some rest. It's been a long day," April said as she went to see what was on the menu.

"Yes, I am starving," Illya said as he followed her.

Napoleon smiled and shook his head."Glad to see you more like yourself; If you weren't hungry I'd be sending you back to Medical for a check-up."

"I am so hungry I could eat a horse; I wonder if that is what the mystery meat is?" He tried cracking a joke.  
The others finally left, except for April who put off going home for as long as possible. She thought it better to stay behind and keep Illya company.

Dr Towers was finishing his observations as they walked into Rebecca's room; it was quieter now that everyone else had left.

"Ah, Mr. Kuryakin. I'm pleased to say she seems to have coped well with the flight and, hopefully, we'll move her onto our own equipment tomorrow."

"That is good to know, thank you Doctor." April took note that Illya's stiffness finally seemed to relax a bit.

"There is a spare bed, please use it. I know you won't want to leave her," Dr. Towers said as he left the room.

April yawned as she stood alongside the hospital bed after the doctor left.

Illya looked at her, seeing how tired she was. "Thank you for staying, but you look shattered, go home and get some sleep, April."

"Yes, sleep does sound good." She looked towards Rebecca, "Dr. Towers will do everything he can for her, Illya". She reached out, resting her hand on his shoulder in assurance.

"I know." He placed his hand on hers, nodding his thanks.

April bid him goodnight, leaving the Russian alone with Becca.

"We are home now _zavetnyy_. I am missing you. Please come back to me?" He whispered as he kissed her goodnight.

He held her hand for a while, searching for any sign that she might have heard him, but there was none. Sighing, he settled down in the spare bed for the night.

Lying on his back, he listened to the noises in the room, the same steady rhythms that he had heard for the past few days. He turned onto his side so he could see her before closing his eyes, letting those familiar sounds promptly lull him asleep.

He didn't think he'd been dreaming but as his eyes opened, he felt uneasy. Something was wrong, but he couldn't work out what it was, then it came to him, the beeping of the heart monitor had changed, it was quicker than before.

He went over to examine the machine, the rate was increasing, the numbers steadily rising; he immediately hit the panic button. Just as the doctor and nurses came running into her room, the beeping stopped. She was coding.

He moved out of the way as the crash cart was rushed into the room. Her heart had stopped and he knew they didn't need him in the way.

Illya forced himself to sit on his bed, watching and silently willing her to fight for her life.

The medical staff worked on her furiously and managed to get her heart going again. Seeing the worried look in the Russian's eyes, Dr. Towers sat next to him.

"I think she'll be all right now. I was half expecting it, that's why I was still here. I anticipated that her heart would stop as a result of the flight. You know how you, yourself feel after a long flight like that; it takes time for the body to adjust, but because her body didn't have the strength to cope, it put too much strain on her heart."

Illya said nothing in response, and Dr. Towers got off the bed, heading for the door. He paused, turning back again towards the agent.

"We were checking on her regularly through the night, but we thought that you would also alert us, knowing how you Section two's can sense things so quickly."

"Yes, I did think you reacted to the alarm rather quickly. Thank you Doctor."

When Dr. Towers left, Illya went over to Becca, watching her for a while before going back to bed, all the while wondering how the next few days would be and if she was ever going to wake.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13: Back to work_

_He stirred briefly, it felt good knowing he was back home. Putting his arm out, he pulled Rebecca to him, she sighed as she snuggled closer. He savored the moment, relishing the feel of her body next to his before falling asleep again._

Illya slowly woke. No longer feeling her lying next to him, he briefly wondered where she'd gone; seeing Becca lying unconscious in the other bed, brought him crashing back to reality.

He crossed over to her.

"Rebecca, it is time you start to fight. You need to wake up, _vozlyublennyy_."

He tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from her eye before leaning over to kiss her forehead.

There was a change of clothing lying on the chair, presumably left there by Lizzie. He had heard someone moving around the bed checking Becca's vitals, though he didn't let on that he was aware they were there.

Illya freshened up in the bathroom inRebecca's room, washing his face and brushing his teeth with the necessary toiletries from his travel kit when Napoleon came in, stopping by the bed.

The Russian watched from the bathroom as his partner gently took Rebecca's hand in his.

"How's she doing?" He asked as Illya exited the bathroom with a towel still draped over his shoulder.

"We had a scare during the night. Her heart stopped. The doctor said it was caused by the flight, since then, there has at least been no change for the worse."

"But she's okay now?"

"The Doctor does not think it has caused any further complications," Illya replied, running his finger along her cheek.

"That at least is some good news my friend. By the way, The Old Man wants to see us."

"What, now?"

"Yes, that's one of the reasons I'm here, to tell you we've been summoned."

"Well, in that case, take me to your leader."

Napoleon rolled his eyes, "I hope you're not gonna tell me you've always wanted to say that. He's your leader too you know."

"Fine, I will not tell you I have always wanted to say that then," Illya smiled.

Solo just shook his head, glad to see his friend at least trying to return to his old self.

Five minutes later they were seated, along with April and Mark, in Waverly's office. They waited patiently and in silence for him to finish packing his pipe before he looked up, finally acknowledging their presence.

"I know you are all concerned for Miss Andrews, and to say the least, she is in the most capable hands possible. At this time, the doctors are doing all they can for her. However, trouble waits for no one, and we need to get you all back to work."

He looked to them all, making his point clear. Illya fidgeted, looking down at his hands. Mr. Waverly was right, much as the thought of having to leave Rebecca pained him; THRUSH, and others like them, wouldn't be putting their schemes on hold.

The Old Man picked up a file, briefly looking through it, before placing it on the table, next to some others. He spun the conference table, sending them around to his CEA, and in turn, Napoleon handed copies to the others.

"I need you to leave for Cairo this afternoon. It seems THRUSH is up to something. Our office there has come across coded messages they cannot decipher. Mr. Kuryakin, they need your skills to break this code."

"Are there copies of the messages in here?" Illya asked as he quickly skimmed through the file.

"Yes, there are six in total, though more have arrived since we received those copies."

"I will start work on them immediately," the Russian replied.

"Please do, Mr. Kuryakin. Cairo has also requested additional assistance once it's discovered what THRUSH is up to. They are a smaller field office and lack the manpower to handle a larger operation, should the need arise."

"I take it you want us to assess the situation while Mr. Kuryakin works on breaking the code," Napoleon stated.

"Yes, quite so, Mr. Solo. I want all four of you on the next available flight. Now dismissed. Ah Mr. Solo if you would be so kind as to stay a moment please."

Napoleon stood waiting, seeing Illya giving an inquiring glance as he left the room.

"Mr. Solo, I know that Mr. Kuryakin and Miss Andrews are, shall I say, a bit more than just friends, and her current situation is a major concern to him. However, I cannot allow him to neglect his duties as an U.N.C.L.E agent. I need him operating at one-hundred percent.

I would like your opinion, as Chief Enforcement Agent, as to whether you think he will be capable of putting his full energies and attention to this assignment. If not, then I am afraid I will have to reassign him to lesser duties."

"I know that he cares for Miss Andrews very deeply, and he's worried for her; but I also know that when he's on an assignment, the success of that will always come first. I trust him with my life, sir. He won't let us down."

"Good, I hoped that would be the case. Your input reaffirmed what I already believed. Alright Mr. Solo, you are dismissed."

"Thank you sir."

Napoleon left, heading straight to the office he shared with his partner. April and Mark were there looking over the files with Illya. Napoleon saw the inquiring look in his partner's eyes.

"It's okay, _tovarisch_. The Old Man just wanted to know if you're going to be up to taking part in this, considering Rebecca's current condition."

"And... what did you tell him?"

"I said you'd be your usual dour Russian self, looking for a fight and wouldn't be a risk to the assignment."

"Humph. Thank you... I think. I do not know if I should be happy with that or not, but I am ready for some action. I know Rebecca will be looked after and Lizzie will be with her."

"I know, partner mine, I know. Well let's have a look at this and see what we can figure out."

Later that morning, Illya checked on Rebecca before leaving for their flight.

He took her hand and held it to his heart as he ran his other hand along her cheek, watching her for several minutes.

"I have to go for a while _vozlyublennyy, _I will return as soon as I can."

He kissed her hand before laying it back on the bed.

Steeling himself, Illya turned towards the door and felt he was as ready as he could be to face the assignment.

The Russian studied the coded messages most of the flight to Cairo. They revealed that THRUSH had located an undiscovered Egyptian tomb with treasure to rival that of Tutankhamun's.

Their intent was to add the horde to their funds which would in effect nearly double their already quite substantial assets.

It took two weeks to find and infiltrate the small satrapy. Using cunning, ingenuity and the help of tracers, they eventually located the burial site in the Valley of the Kings.

With the backing of some agents from the local office, they secured the precious artifacts from THRUSH and ensured they were passed to the relevant authorities.

They returned to New York with nothing more than a few minor cuts and bruises, apart from sand that seemed to get anywhere and everywhere.

Napoleon was almost tempted to see if Del Floria had anything to remove it from his clothing once and for all. Illya was just glad to be out of the intense heat, he had managed to avoid heatstroke this time, but had obtained a slight tan, much to the amusement of his partner.

After giving their reports on the Cairo Affair, Illya headed straight up to Medical. Waverly could sense the man's anxiousness and kept their meeting brief. The team had functioned successfully and that's what was most important. He would read the 'detail' once his agents filed their written reports. Kuryakin was always prompt about that, while his partner was a little more lax. No matter, the reports eventually arrive, to be added to the pile of other reports that Alexander Waverly needed to review.

Illya, though anxious to see Rebecca, felt a jab of hesitation before entering her room. He'd gotten reports on her condition while away, but still the reality of seeing her was still shocking to him. He knew she had been moved off the Jet's equipment, and had been showing some signs of improvement, though that didn't make him worry any less.

Lizzie saw the Russian standing in the doorway and greeted him.

"She's the same since I last spoke to you. Go, see her." Lizzie reached out, touching her hand to his shoulder in encouragement.

She caught his smile, though she could see the worry in his eyes.

"Da, thank you. It was just a shock seeing her again like this. I was hoping she would look better somehow after two weeks."

Lizzie smiled back, giving his shoulder a squeeze before he walked over to the bed.

He looked down at her laying in the bed, realizing she looked the same as she did when he said goodbye to her two weeks ago. Illya sat with her for a few minutes, listening to the equipment as it did its job.

He finally rose from his chair. "I am here, _moya lyubov" _he whispered to her." I am going to have a shower and something to eat and then I will be right back."

Just over an hour later he returned and sat holding her hand, listening again to the steady rhythm of the machines surrounding her and, as in the past, the sounds lulled him asleep.

He woke some time later, not knowing how long he'd dozed, but guessing it had been some time from the stiffness of his muscles. He climbed into the other bed across from her with a groan, beginning his routine again of keeping his vigil over her, and not leaving unless he had to.

Illya woke the next morning, checking on Becca before he headed off to the locker room to shower and change. Just as he finished he received a call to go to Waverly's office and ran into his partner who was headed there himself. Dr. Towers was there already.

"Ah, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, please sit. Dr. Towers is here to update you on Miss Andrews condition. I know both of you are close to her, especially you, Mr. Kuryakin."

Napoleon looked to his partner and saw him blush slightly while trying to avoid eye contact.

"Thank you, Sir. She does mean a lot to me."

"I have called you here as we need to discuss Miss Andrews condition. Dr. Towers, if you please?"

"Thank you Mr. Waverly. As you know, gentlemen, it has been well over three weeks since Miss Andrews was hurt.

Her internal injuries are healing and though she is stable, we'd hoped she would have regained consciousness by now. I'm afraid that with the continued medical care she needs, we can't keep her here for much longer, we're simply not set up for long term care."

Napoleon looked to Illya, seeing his jaw harden, and knowing him well enough, he knew it was a sign he was becoming angry. He had a pretty good idea what was most likely going through his partner's mind, and he spoke out before Illya could speak up.

"Sir, please, surely it would be better if she stays here, with the people she knows around her. Maybe familiarity will bring her back."

"That's what we had hoped, but there's no sign of her coming out from her coma and as I've said, we're just not set up for the kind of long term care she's going to need."

Mr. Waverly now spoke.

"I am afraid that if Miss Andrews does not show any signs of awakening by the end of the week, we will have no choice but to move her to our facility in upstate New York." He looked to Illya. "I know how you feel Mr. Kuryakin, but this is my final word on this matter. I assure you, she will receive the finest care."

Illya was crestfallen, "Yes, Sir. I do not like it, but I understand."

The two agents left the office, Napoleon reached out, putting his hand his friends shoulder to comfort him.

"I'm sorry Illya, but it looks like my luck's not with us this time."

"It is no fault of yours, there is no need for you to be sorry. I keep thinking; maybe I did wrong, saving her in Killeagy. I let my personal feelings get in the way." He replied solemnly, stopping to look at his partner, "but you know what she means to me. I could not let her go without trying."

"I know, _tovarisch_. I know how happy you have been since you met her, well since you began to like her, anyway."

"Mmm, it was not quite love at first sight, was it?" He smiled. "I am going to Medical to speak with Dr. Towers."

"If you think it will do any good. Do you want me to come along?"

"No, I will be fine, I just need to discuss something with him."

"You know where I'll be if you need me."

"Da, thank you. You are a good friend, Napoleon."

"I'll always have your back, tovarisch."

They parted company and Illya stopped by Rebecca's room before heading off to speak to Towers.

"You need to wake up now Rebecca, _zavetnyĭ_," He whispered as he kissed her.

He found Dr. Towers in his office.

"Ah, Mr. Kuryakin, please sit down. I presume you wish to talk to me about Miss Andrews."

"Yes, I want to know what I can do to try and bring Rebecca out of her coma."

"There's not much you can do Mr. Kuryakin. It's mainly down to her. We've tried everything we could think of, but without success. I just don't know what else to do."

He nodded slowly. "I would like to thank you, for all you have done, Doctor."

Illya left, feeling like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. Returning to Rebecca's room, he took his customary seat next to her.

His shoulders slumped as the realization hit him that after everything they had been through, he might still lose her, not by succumbing to her injuries; but by being sent to a care facility where she would just be another patient, not a person who was loved and cared for by those who knew her.

Why wouldn't she come out from the coma? Physically, the doctor said he couldn't find anything wrong with her that would prevent her from returning.

Was she punishing him for making her go through this?

He thought, again, maybe he was wrong in what he did, and wondered how he might feel if it had been the other way round.

Illya began to feel angry with himself, these thoughts churning around and spiraling out of proportion.

"Rebecca, you have to wake up, if you do not they are going to take you away."

His voice rose in intensity, feeling the pent up emotions and frustration being released from his body.

"Is that what you really want? To be looked after by people who do not know you?" he said angrily.

Once it started, it was hard to stop, he wasn't normally an emotional person, but somehow floodgates had been opened.

"Please, just open your eyes, squeeze my hand, anything, then they will let you stay." He shouted in frustration.

Suddenly, the heart monitor's rhythm changed,

_Wherever this was, she felt safe, but then being with her father would always make her feel secure. It was a warm summer day and she was sat under a huge, old oak tree, snuggled in the arms of the older man._

_"I love you daddy and I've missed you so much."_

_"I love you too Becca, and I always will. Remember that."_

_"I will. The last time we were all together, you, Mum, me and Phillip, we spent the afternoon under a tree just like this, before you..."_

_"Yes, It's a memory I've always treasured. But you must not stay, you've been here with me too long already, it's not yet time for you."_

_"But it's so nice to be here with you again. I want to stay."_

_"Rebecca, sweetheart, I have watched you grow up and follow in my footsteps. Ours is not an easy life, it's even harder to find someone with whom you can spend what time we do have. I've seen how happy you and Illya are together, you are true soulmates. It is he that needs you, not me. Go back to him."_

_"I do love him Daddy and I know he loves me, but I'm frightened if I go back, I won't be able to recover from those injuries. Then what good would I be? I don't want to be a burden to him, he doesn't deserve that."_

_"Becca, I know you more than you know yourself. You are a strong person and if anyone can come through this and out the other side, you can. Don't give up hope, you'll get all the support you need from those around you."_

_"I know you're right. I love you daddy."_

_"Ditto." He replied with a smile, making her laugh as she remembered how he would say that to her."Goodbye sweetheart."_

_The summer scene faded away to blackness and she could hear another familiar voice speaking to her. Slowly she returned a squeeze she felt on her hand and tried to prise her eyes open._

Illya had immediately hit the call button as soon as the heart monitor registered a change, Dr. Towers had gone off duty and it was Dr. Hogarth who came to see what the problem was.

"Something seems to be happening, and she just squeezed my hand."

The doctor shone his light in her eyes and checked the rest of her vitals.

"Her pupils are responding, and something certainly seems to be occurring. Whatever you were doing, keep doing it."

"Actually, I was... erm, well, I was berating her for not coming back." Illya replied sheepishly.

"Well, keep doing it, it's obviously working."

"Becca, please do it again, squeeze my hand. Do it while the doctor is here so he can see, then you will not be taken away."

A light squeeze followed.

"Good, I knew you could do it. Now open your eyes, I want to see them again. It has been too long, _moya lyubov_."

He was beginning to think he would never see those soft hazel brown eyes look at him again, but they were slowly revealed under heavy lids. A tear tracked down his cheek as he caressed her face with his hand, wiping the wetness from her own cheek.

"Welcome back Becca," his voice full of relief and love.

"Am I always going to have to speak to you firmly before you listen to me?" He tried lightening the intense atmosphere contained within the room.

"Good to see you with us again Miss Andrews. You have had us all concerned," Dr. Hogarth added.

The eyes that looked back registered confusion, she couldn't focus properly and began to feel panic set in.

"Rebecca, it is alright, calm down, you are safe here in New York." Illya held her hand and stroked her hair in an attempt to soothe her.

"Shhh, relax, I am here and I am not going anywhere."

_Gradually, Becca started to remember where she was, she'd been dreaming she was with her father, but was it a dream? It seemed too real; she could still feel his touch, breathe in his scent and hear his laughter._

_"Sweetheart, you are where you belong, be happy, my precious daughter."_

_"Daddy, I will miss you." She tried to say, but words wouldn't come out, something was in her throat and she started to cough._

"She's fighting the ventilator, we need to remove it. Where the hell does she get her strength from?" Dr. Hogarth said.

"Miss Andrews look at me. I need you to listen."

Hazy, unfocused brown eyes slowly looked in his direction.

"We are going to remove the tube in your throat. Do you understand? Blink once for no, twice for yes."

She closed her eyes twice.

"Good, when I say, I need you to cough, do you follow me?"

Two blinks.

"Okay, on three. One, two, three."

The doctor pulled the tube out as Rebecca coughed weakly, immediately an oxygen mask was placed over her nose and mouth to aid her breathing.

"You're a medical miracle Miss Andrews, You must have a guardian angel helping you every step of the way."

She closed her eyes and thought 'Thank you, Daddy'.

"Rest now, I know you are tired, _vozlyublennyy_."

Illya stayed by her bedside as she slept, joy in his heart that she had come back, though he knew there was a long way to go.

The next time Rebecca woke up, she was less agitated and was focusing better. After a few more days, she could move her head and tracked visitors and staff as they moved around her room, her eyes lighting up when she recognized her Russian.

"Good afternoon _zavetnyĭ_, you are looking better."

Suddenly he smiled as Becca shakily reached a hand out to him. He took it and held tightly, caressing the back of it with his thumb.

"That is a good sign, it will not be long before we will have you on your feet. Knowing you, the nurses will soon have a hard time keeping you in bed. I love you so much Rebecca."

"I love... you too... Illya." She croaked back. The first words she'd been able to speak in a long time and it brought a tear to his eyes.

"I know you do, _moya lyubov._ Now get some rest, two milestones in one day is a big achievement."

Over the next several days, she regained strength and her speech improved considerably, though she struggled with a few longer words. Things were finally looking up.


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter 14: Road to Recovery_

News spread quickly around HQ that Rebecca had woken up from her coma, she was well liked and it showed in the amount of cards and flowers that arrived from well wishers over the next few days.

Every day she was getting stronger. Illya and Napoleon, along with Mark and April, spent as much time as they could helping and encouraging her recovery.

Like all Section two's, she was very strong willed and didn't want to be in Medical any longer than necessary. Illya continued to sleep in the spare bed every night, looking forward to the time when he could finally take her back home.

Just over a week after regaining consciousness, she had improved considerably; most of the medical equipment that had been supporting her was gradually removed, until only the IV remained.

Though they did it without the staff's knowledge, Illya, Napoleon and Lizzie managed to spirit Becca out of medical using a wheelchair as she was still too weak to walk. They wheeled her down to a little celebration in the office that Napoleon and Illya shared. The Russian had asked Security to turn a blind eye to the mischief and they gladly obliged by suddenly having camera malfunctions in the corridors leading from Medical to the Section II office.

When they arrived, Mark, Penny and April were waiting for them. The air was filled with the scent of delicious homemade soup and some pasta in a light sauce, suitable for Rebecca to eat and for the others, sausage rolls, quiche and pizza, as well as a selection of desserts, including Illya's favorite chocolate cake. The feast had been spread out on both Illya and Napoleon's desks and the aromas from it all made Becca's mouth water. Balloons and streamers decorated the grey walls, cheering the place up. She smiled, delighted and touched to see the small party they'd organized.

"Wow, you've done all this for me? Thank you so much."

April went over and gave her a hug.

"Well darling, it's about time you came out to play, we've missed you."

"Penny, April and Napoleon did the cooking. We thought you might like something with a bit more flavour," Lizzie informed her.

"Hopefully you should be able to manage some of it before Illya makes it all disappear." Napoleon quipped, digging the Russian in the ribs with his elbow and eliciting a scowl from his partner.

"Anyone would think I do nothing but eat." The Russian griped, then a smirk crept across his face as he looked to Rebecca, "there are other things I can do equally as well, if not better."

"Yes, well, maybe you should save that till later, tovarisch," Solo countered, "and just so you know, we didn't let him near the kitchen. Illya wanted to cook you something, but we didn't think you would have recovered enough to sample his culinary delights."

"That is not quite completely true," he replied indignantly, "I do not ruin everything you know."

Hearing the chatter and laughter coming from his agent's office, Mr. Waverly poked his head in.

"Ah, Miss Andrews, I heard you are improving remarkably well," he frowned slightly, "I didn't expect to see you this far from Medical, young lady, though it is good to see you out and about, I trust you will be back before you are missed?"

"Yes, thank you Sir, somebody has to keep these men in order, Lizzie and Penny can't do it on their own."

"Yes indeed. Erm, well as they say, behind every good man is a very good woman." Smiling, he thought of his own wife, as he left them and carried on towards his office.

A half hour later, Rebecca was returned safe and sound to Medical, much to the consternation of Dr. Towers who had not approved this little venture away from her medical bed. After a cursory examination of the patient, he found her to be fine, and agreed these small trips might do her spirit good, but cautioned them not to over do it.

She'd enjoyed the change of scenery and the small gathering; and appreciated the lighter foods they'd cooked for her, though she hoped her friends didn't notice she hadn't eaten much, as she still found eating difficult.

Becca was glad to be back in bed; the short trip had tired her more than she wanted to let on, though Illya could see she was exhausted.

"Rest now, I will go and finish some paperwork and come back later." Illya whispered.

Making herself comfortable, she relaxed into the soft pillows.

"I might just close my eyes for a minute or two." She snuggled under the blankets, suddenly feeling very tired, "I'll be here when you return."

"Sleep well, _zavetnyĭ_," he said, giving her a quick kiss.

"I'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes," she murmured.

Illya knew she was halfway there already, and would be fast off within seconds.

It was late in the evening when he returned, finding Rebecca still asleep. He didn't want to wake her so refrained from kissing her and climbed into the spare bed as usual, but had second thoughts.

Now that she was only on the IV he decided to share Becca's bed, he missed the feel of her body next to him.

He took a chance, and climbed in beside her, and ever so carefully, avoiding her IV line; he wrapped his arms around her. She must have sensed his presence as she stirred slightly, snuggling up to him.

He'd missed this so much and fell asleep with her in his arms, smiling and feeling more contented than he had in what seemed such a long time.

Illya woke the next morning still holding her in his arms, with her head resting safely on his chest. He stayed like that for a while, savoring the moment.

He hadn't told her, but he was due to leave with Napoleon on an assignment the next day, it would only be a few days as it was more or less a baby-sitting affair. He decided he would break the news to her after breakfast.

He slipped away from her trying not to wake her up and went off to get changed and freshen up. When he returned, she looked at him questioningly, with a sparkle in her eyes.

"I could have sworn someone shared my bed last night, but I must have dreamt it as I was alone when I woke up."

Illya smiled slyly, "Ah, you had that dream last night too?"

"Mmm, it was a certain, blue eyed, blond Russian who held me in his embrace."

"Not quite like mine then. It was a brown haired English lady with lovely hazel eyes that I had my arms around."

"It sounds like the same dream, but from different perspectives."

"Of course, you must be correct; in that case, I am looking forward to more," he replied with an amorous look.

"Me too," she smiled seductively.

Her playfulness abruptly disappeared and her demeanor changed to a more serious mood.

"When are you leaving?" The expression on his face betrayed him. "Don't look at me like that Kuryakin, I've known for a while."

"How did you find out?"

"An interrogator never reveals her secrets."

"If you were not still recuperating, I would..."

"Ooh, is that a threat or a promise?" She interrupted, unable to stay cross with him.

"You are incorrigible, Miss Andrews."

"I know, and when were you going to tell me Mr. Kuryakin?"

"_Zavetnyĭ_, you are recovering so well, I did not want you to become upset."

"I know you have to work, Illyusha. It's not going to upset me knowing you have to go, I can't expect you to stay until I'm cleared for duty."

"Yes, you are right, I should have told you. We are leaving tomorrow afternoon, and should be back in three days."

"Then we'd better make the most of the time we have before you go," she smiled.

The seriousness gone, she grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to the bed. Climbing in, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her with enthusiasm.

"I'll keep the bed warm for your return. I know how you tend to come back," she giggled.

"Humph. You are a wicked woman Rebecca," he grinned; his eyes sparkling with desire, "but keep it warm for me anyway – just in case."

While Illya and Napoleon were away, Lizzie was Rebecca's constant companion, helping with her daily exercise routine to improve her strength and level of fitness.

With Rebecca arriving at her first physiotherapy appointment, Lizzie assisted her out of the wheelchair and onto a set of mats spread out across the floor.

Bruce Pennington, the physio, put her to work with a set of leg and arm exercises, he was glad to see that the simple routines he had devised for her to do in bed had helped to strengthen her muscles. After some time, he felt she could move to an exercise ball and light dumbbells which she coped with very well.

"Right Miss Andrews, I think we have done enough here for today. I'll see you again tomorrow. Keep doing those exercises and I think we'll have you back on your feet quite quickly."

"Thanks Bruce." She spied the parallel bars on the far side of the room. "Do you think I can try on those tomorrow?"

"Ah, I'm not sure you're ready for them yet, I think you'll be pushing it to get on the bars tomorrow."

Rebecca grinned and promised herself that she would do whatever she could to get her way.

Lizzie guided her back to the wheelchair and returned her to her room.

"I know what you're thinking Becca, please don't over do it." She sighed in resignation, "though I know you're going to go right ahead and do what you plan anyway. So I'd better help you and make sure you don't do yourself an injury."

Rebecca smiled and had the decency to look slightly chastised. Lizzie continued.

"I'm off in ten minutes, just promise me you won't try anything until I come back after I clock off. Please?"

"I promise Lizzie, I'll wait right here for you to return."

"You'll get me shot if they find out about this, Becca," she grinned.

True to her word Rebecca waited for her friend to return and with the nurses help she worked the muscles in her legs and arms using a set of dumbbells she had managed to smuggle out.

"I think it is time to rest now, Becca, you have done more than enough for one day."

"Yes, I am feeling tired, will you stay for a while? I'd appreciate the company."

"Yes, of course, Napoleon's not going to be home, so I'd only be on my own anyway."

The two friends chatted away into the evening before Rebecca fell asleep exhausted. Lizzie tucked the blanket around her and dimmed the lights before leaving.

The next day, Rebecca was again brought to rehab. Pennington, assessed her condition as he watched her exercising on the mats and with the ball; he was pleased to see she'd made good progress.

"Bruce, can I try the bars?" The physio started to shake his head, "Please?" Becca persisted.

He sighed, "Well, you have regained strength in your arms and legs, more so than I'd expected, If I didn't know better..." He looked pointedly at her, she blushed and looked sheepish.

"Lizzie, can you help her over to them, please."

"Sure, Mr. Pennington."

He watched as Becca was helped back into the wheelchair, before wheeling herself across to the bars.

Taking a few deep breaths, Rebecca geared herself up to the task ahead. With Lizzies help she pulled herself up out of the chair and held on to the equipment.

After ten minutes she had reached the halfway point, slowly placing one foot in front the other while supporting herself on the rails, Bruce nearby, ready to catch her if she lost balance.

He could see that it had been hard work for her to get that far, but she kept going, determined to get to the end.

"Hey Bruce, how am I doing?" She grinned, pleased with her efforts.

"Remarkably well, Rebecca, take a rest when you get to the end, I'll get the chair for you."

"No, I want to make it back again before I sit down."

"I don't want you overdoing it," Pennington warned.

"Listen to him Becca," Lizzie added.

"I can do it, please let me?"

"All right, but it's against my better judgement. I'll make you sit if I think you really need to though," Bruce replied.

"Fair enough, just help me turn around."

Once facing the opposite direction, she slowly made her way back, stopping a couple of times to catch her breath, before gratefully collapsing in the wheelchair.

"Excellent. Keep it up like that and you will be yourself in no time. But I warn you, don't overdo it, what you have just done is more than enough, no more today."

He gave her a stern look and she nodded meekly.

"Fine then, I'll take your advice, no more on the bars today."

"Good, and make sure you keep up with the exercises I gave you."

Lizzie jumped into the conversation. "I'll keep an eye on her; I know what she's like." She announced it was time for the patient to return to her room.

"I want to be able to walk unaided before Illya and Napoleon get back Lizzie,"she whispered as she was wheeled out into the hall.

"They're only going to be gone for three days. I think you'll be pushing it."

"I can do it, Lizzie, I know I can," she insisted.

"I'll never understand you agents, you always push yourselves to the limit, and beyond," Lizzie sighed.

After two more days of exercising her leg muscles, walking around her room, when Lizzie wasn't looking, and intense work on the parallel bars in rehab, Rebecca could walk quite well with the help of a pair of canes.

Becca insisted on trying without them the following afternoon. By the end of the day, she could manage short distances between pieces of furniture. It looked as though she would be able to achieve her goal after all.

Napoleon and Illya's three day mission turned into a week due to their charge being wanted by THRUSH, but he was eventually brought to New York HQ only a little worse for wear; unlike the two agents, who had more than the usual contusions and bruises. Napoleon suffered a mild concussion and a broken arm, while Illya had a dislocated shoulder.

Upon their return they were ordered to report directly to Medical, to be checked over, before going anywhere else. The Russian complaining and grumbling through it all as usual, as he was impatient to get away from the doctors and see his Becca.

When eventually they arrived at her room they found it empty, with the beds neatly made.

Napoleon could see the worry showing instantly in his partner's eyes.

"Where is she?" He asked as fear colored his voice. Had something happened to her, was she dead and no one told him?

They stood aghast in silence, both fearing the worst had happened, when they each felt a hand on their shoulders. It was Lizzie.

"Where is she?" Illya demanded.

"Just come with me please."

Leading them to the day room, she told them to sit down and wait before leaving them. As they looked at each other, each fought back the worry that was both filling them.

A figure slowly walked into the room and they stared in disbelief at what they saw.

Rebecca was walking towards them, unaided. Her face was positively glowing as she proudly smiled at them, her eyes sparkling at her Russian.

Illya returned her gaze with his happiness twinkling in his eyes. He rose from his seat, wrapping his good arm around her waist.

"Becca, _vozlyublennyy_, I can not believe my eyes. When I saw your empty room, I thought something terrible had happened, but never expected this." He gave her such a kiss that even the normally unflappable Napoleon blushed.

"Hey, tovarisch, put her down, and get a room."

"I am unable to pick her up with only one good arm, but I do have a room not far away." The Russian looked to Solo with a wicked grin.

Napoleon rolled his eyes as he walked past the embracing couple to greet his own Lizzie who had walked in behind Becca, ready to catch her if she fell. He wrapped his good arm around her waist as well, pulling him to her and giving her a lingering kiss.

"Medical has cleared me for light duty as of next week, at which time I'll be allowed to go home as long as I'm not on my own. They think I'll be ready for fieldwork re-assessment in another six weeks, but I'm aiming for half that." Rebecca told Illya as she put her arm around his good one. "Any ideas what we can do until then?"

Illya pulled Becca close to him as a sly smile crept across his face, accompanied by a mischievous look.

"I can think of quite a few things we can do; but first I would like to go out for a nice dinner, as I am starving."

They all laughed as they heard Illya's stomach give a loud growl and Rebecca rolled her eyes.

"Then that sounds like a plan, let's go and feed our hungry Russian," Rebecca announced.

"After you ladies," Napoleon gestured gallantly at the door, winking at his partner, knowing they were both very lucky men.


End file.
